Dragon Age - The Fifth Blight - COMPLETE
by Nardhwen-LadyShi
Summary: When Everil Cousland loses everything, she joins the Grey Wardens against an evil threatening all of Ferelden. But when the battle to end the darkspawn invasion goes awry, the king of Ferelden and the rest of the Grey Wardens are killed. Now she and Alistair are forced to carry on their duty alone, setting out on a journey to gather allies and save a broken nation. Review Pls.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter I

Blood splattered the cold ground, painting the dirt red before a man fell with a cry, a gaping gash across his chest. Then a helpless whimper escaped him as he stared up in horror, the dark shape of a monster reflecting upon his wide eyes. The creature leaned over him with its hellish, jagged blade, and the man let out a gurgling sound as his throat was slowly slit. It laughed hoarsely, grey eyes admiring its work as its victim's blood gushed out and pooled. But its sinister laughter was silenced when a sword suddenly pierced through its chest. It looked down at the shimmering metal, its permanent grin and blank stare unchanged. Then a dagger came over its shoulder and slashed across its neck. The monster's head dropped to the ground with a hollow thud, its body falling sideways to reveal a darkly tanned man with a black beard and ponytail, his gaze as sharp as his blades.

Duncan's blue and silver armor chimed as he calmly knelt to clean his weapon on the monster's torn clothes. He then used the same rag to wipe off red splatters from the regal griffon adorning his breast plate. A symbol that marked him as a Grey Warden.

"Damn…we were too late," Uttered a fair young man with dirty-blond hair who he stood a short distance behind him, wielding a sword in one hand while glaring down at the monster he killed. He was a knight barely in his twenties, clad in a similar garb and with a matching griffon on his chest and shield.

"I'm afraid there will be far more death soon, Alistair," Duncan responded before he rose to his feet to survey the carnage around them. Wagons were spilled over, the contents scattered about along with the blood and gore of both travelers and cattle. His dark brown eyes then turned to look past the nearby cliff to the woods below, where more creatures marched across the land, slowly weaving their way through the brush. Above them, a dark cloud slowly moved with them, red lighting sparking eerily while all trees in its wake quickly withered and died. A dark omen of what was to come.

Alistair sheathed his sword at his hip and walked over to stand beside his mentor, hazel-brown eyes widening at the sight below them. "Maker… there's so many of them," He uttered and then looked to Duncan with unease. "This is it isn't it...? This is really a Blight..."

"Yes... But I see no sign of the archdemon. Not yet." Duncan's jaw set and he turned to walk towards the road ahead. "Come. We have no time to waste."

"Right..." Alistair followed him, a troubled look upon his brow. Duncan sent him a brief glance over his shoulder, then his eyes gazed ruefully to the horizon.

 _Maker help us all…_ Duncan thought to himself, knowing that the coming days would forever change the boy's life, as well as that of everyone in Ferelden.

xxxxxxx

Several weeks after they brought the news to the king of Ferelden, stories of their ongoing fight against the darkspawn in the south had reached the people of Highever. But despite the looming danger in the south, Teyrn Bryce Cousland's approaching tourney appeared to be the only thing in the minds of the bustling population. Merchants hurried to finish setting up their shops, some dragging carts through the road in a haste, while rest of the people rushed through the street, all carrying excited smiled as they made their way to the arena.

Alistair walked beside Duncan as they made their way through the crowded road, trying in vain to dodge people who were so distracted with last minute preparations that they paid little attention to those in their path. Alistair gave an irritated look to one of the townsfolk when the man bumped into him, running past him without even an apology. "Are these people not scared or worried? I mean, it's not like there's an army of monsters currently threatening the entire nation."

"Unfortunately, most do not believe this is a true Blight," Duncan replied, side-stepping to avoid being hit by another running citizen. "It has been centuries since the last, and we killed so many darkspawn then that most assumed they were defeated for good. This in addition to the spreading rumors of the king's success in the south."

"I don't know if I would call that success. Every time we kill some more sprout up. Like weeds! Only without the cute little flowers some of them have," Alistair said, pausing as a grin spread upon his lips. "You know, I think darkspawn should consider wearing daisies over their heads. At least it would help draw our attention away from their ugly faces."

Duncan chuckled as he hopelessly shook his head. "Perhaps you can make the suggestion once we return to Ostagar."

"Maybe..." Alistair's smile then faded, humor leaving his voice. "Hey Duncan… I've been meaning to ask..."

"Yes?"

"I thought it only takes one Grey Warden to recruit. Why couldn't I stay behind with the others?"

"The tourney will help us find the last of the new recruits we need for the upcoming battle, and this will be a good experience for you," Duncan replied with a firm tone, "Be patient, Alistair. You will be back on the battlefield soon enough."

"Sure… all right." Alistair uttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

As they walked past an alley, a blur of lilac clothes suddenly came into Alistair's line of vision, and before he knew what it was, something slammed into him, nearly knocking him back. A hooded figure then fell to the ground, letting out a feminine 'oomph'.

"Hey!" Alistair immediately knelt with a concerned look, placing a hand upon her shoulder. "Are you-?" Her head snapped up and the hood slid back, revealing beauty that instantly robbed him of what little air remained in his lungs.

His eyes widened. _Maker…_

Dark, long lashes fluttered as eyes the color of the sky stared back at him, pulling him into their mystifying depths. Rounded cheeks were framed by loose strands of chestnut hair, the delicate locks accentuating her porcelain colored skin. Her full, soft-pink lips like rose petals, slightly parted as she panted for breath. He couldn't help but numbly offer her his hand, stunned into silence as he stared. She took it and allowed him to pull her up to her feet. She promptly adjusted her cloak, muttering a quick apology before storming past them.

Alistair remained rooted to the spot, a hand over the area she had hit as he numbly watched her disappear into the crowd. Duncan patted his shoulder with a faint smile. "You should close your mouth now, Alistair. Lest a fly make its way into it."

He shut his mouth, snapping out of his daze. "Right... Uh sorry."

"Come. We cannot afford any more distractions. The tourney is about to begin." Duncan uttered and then resumed their walk.

xxxxxxx

The crowd gathered around the arena, filling the stands at each side of the balcony, where the teyrn and his wife now sat. A younger man who resembled the teyrn stood at his side, a woman and a child sitting beside him. Alistair looked around the dirt field from his seat upon the stands, while next to him Duncan did the same, his arms crossed as he waited patiently for the battles to start. A bearded old man then stepped towards the center of the arena, a scroll secured within his hand before the teyrn stood, raising his hand to the crowd.

"Welcome to the celebration of our king's victories in the south! This event will determine the strongest of warriors, and whoever wins will be known as today's champion!" He then gestured to the old man below. "Aldous, let the festivities begin!"

Alistair gave Duncan an odd look. "Isn't it a little early to celebrate like this?"

"The families of the men who will be marching with him are gathered here. He is using the rumors as a way to keep them at ease before heading for battle." Duncan turned his sharp, brown eyes towards him. "Remember: A good leader always strives to maintain morale, even when the future is uncertain."

Aldous unraveled the scroll, calling forth the first match. Two muscular men stepped in from the sidelines as the crowd cheered. One of the men carried a claymore, while the other sported an axe and a shield. As they measured each other up, the cheers grew silent and they swung at each other, their weapons loudly clashing. Moments later, the fighter with the claymore won the first match, while the other man lay on the ground, having been knocked out cold by a hit to his helmet.

The other matches had been similar, as the brawniest men he had ever seen stepped in to prove their might. And despite Alistair being a well-built man himself, he had to admit that watching the behemoths beat each other senseless was a little unnerving.

"The next contenders are: From the farmlands of Lothering, Ser Lorec Phren!" The old man announced, calling forth the next match. Another man stepped in, heavily armored and resting a massive axe upon his shoulder. The crowd cheered loudly.

"And from our very own Highever!" The old man paused, raising a bushy brow. "Lady Eril Drake!"

The place instantly grew quiet as a woman made her way to the center of the arena, her head covered with the hood of her cloak.

"Hey… It's the girl from before." Alistair said with surprise, and once again, he couldn't help but stare. He vaguely noticed the long sword and dagger strapped to her back, his eyes instead taking in her hourglass figure as her lilac leather armor clung firmly to every curve. Definitely the most beautiful woman he ever saw.

The burly man's rumbling laughter pierced through the silence, and he turned a sadistic smirk to the old scholar, pointing a finger at Eril. "This is my next opponent?"

Aldous cleared his throat. "Yes, Ser Lorec. She is a late arrival."

"All right then…" Lorec gazed towards her, his smile hardening into a glare as he bent his knees and prepared his axe. "As a man of honor, I go against hurting women. But it seems you asked for it when you signed up, sweetheart."

She said nothing in response and merely drew her weapons in one fluid motion.

"Ugh… I can't look." Alistair winced, trying feebly to tear his eyes away from the scene below.

Duncan however, looked on with quiet interest.

Lorec moved in first, faster than expected despite the heavy weight he carried. He swung his axe sideways, drawing a gasp out of the crowd.

Eril back-flipped, easily avoiding the attack. She then began walking to the side, circling her opponent. He gave her a slightly irritated look and followed along, gripping his axe with both hands while adjusting it for another swing.

The two Grey Wardens watched intently as she continued to circle her adversary, with Alistair silently hoping she could dodge the next attack as she did the first.

Lorec quickly grew impatient with the pacing, and with a cry, he charged. He swung upwards at her as she jumped back, avoiding the hit. He then brought down the axe, hitting the ground upon which she had stood, sending dirt flying in every direction. With a frustrated growl he plucked his weapon out from the ground, swinging left at her. Again she dodged, doing the same with each attack he threw her way, seemingly mocking the fellow.

"Is she not going to fight back? This is getting old," Someone in the crowd said irritably.

Duncan intently observed her every move, running a hand down his thick, black beard.

"Fight, woman!" Ser Lorec snapped, breathing heavily as he swung his weapon, only to miss yet again. "I said fight!" He attacked again, but to everyone's surprise, this time she blocked with both weapons, the weight of the blow making her bend her knees and slide back two feet.

"Die, wench!" He began attacking her none-stop, each hit blocked by her blades.

Suddenly she moved, fluid as water, dodging one of his attacks while slicing his arm open with her dagger. He screamed, his axe dropping heavily to the ground. Panicking, he swung his other arm, trying to punch the nimble woman. Eril easily slid under it, slithering around him and pivoting on one foot as she brought her knife to his neck from behind. Then everything went quiet once more. Lorec stood frozen in place, the cold steel of her dagger pressing against his beating jugular as a bead of sweat slid down his brow. The fight was over.

"By the Maker…" Alistair breathed in disbelief while the crowd around them erupted into cheers.

A corner of Duncan's lips went up. "Defeating a foe larger than herself by turning their brute strength against them. Well done."

The following matches were against men with past victories, and they ended in the same fashion—with her blades mere inches from slicing their throats. Eril was fast and precise, obviously well trained on the skills of a rogue. She was able to easily break through the opposition, quickly gaining the support of those in the stands.

Soon they were at the last match, with all the prior warriors defeated by the next opponent and herself. The final battle would define the best between the two, as well as who was to be the champion of the tourney.

"The winner of the prior fight, Ser Gilmore of Highever!"

The crowd cheered, some women screaming with glee. The red headed, young man bowed humbly to them, his shield in one hand and a long sword in the other. He was geared in chainmail armor, light enough to allow for more rapid movement, yet heavy enough to provide protection.

"And Lady Eril of Highever!"

She stepped forth, her weapons at the ready.

Unlike the other men she had faced, Ser Gilmore respectfully bowed his head, a small smile on his lips. "May the best warrior win, my lady."

She responded with a subtle tilt of her head.

The match then began, and she instantly kicked forth, charging at full sprint. He only had enough time to raise his sword to block, shocked by her sudden burst of movement. She had previously taken her time defeating her opponents, now she seemed set on ending it quickly.

Eril pulled her arms back, sidestepped and slashed again, making him to block with his shield as she pushed forth. Her dagger slid through the polished surface, sparks flying as the tip slid off and almost graced his face. Ser Gilmore clenched his teeth and swung his shield, almost slamming it against her while forcing her off of him. As she stumbled back he slashed, barely missing her middle before she swiftly flipped back, putting distance between them.

Ser Gilmore narrowed his eyes and discarded his shield, changing his stance to hold his blade with both hands.

"He knows he will have to compensate for his lack of speed against her," Duncan said, more to himself than to his companion, "He will focus on his offense to make up the difference."

She slid down lower, changing the position of her weapons to face backwards, pommels facing him.

Duncan's brows went up. "She knows this."

Alistair glanced towards him in silent wonder. Drawing the Warden Commander's attention was hard to do, but impressing him was by far more difficult. And yet there he was, watching Duncan practically debate with himself in an attempt to determine which of the two fighters would be better suited to be a Warden—if not both.

The match soon increased in speed, as one soon closed in on the other, Eril obviously finding this match more difficult than the last. She swung one blade sideways, which he blocked with his armored arm. She then struck with the other, which he blocked with his sword. He pushed against her, using his superior strength to drive back her weapon while pushing her arms apart. He then slashed at her diagonally, forcing her to lean back to avoid it.

She stepped back and he swung again, but this time she crouched, dodging the hit. He followed through after the swing, turning on one foot and going low with a kick at her feet. He tripped her, and she fell hard on her back before he brought his blade down. She rolled to the side, avoiding his sword as it stabbed through her cloak and into the dirt. She then rolled backwards and away from him, his blade tearing off her cover in the process.

The crowd gasped and a stunned Ser Gilmore watched with wide eyes as she slowly rose to her feet.

"My lady!" He choked out.

"Everil!" The teyrna stood from her seat, horrified.

Everil smiled with determination, unfazed by the loss of her disguise, as a gentle breeze flowed through her waist-long hair, picking up the delicate waves.

Alistair's brow furrowed. "I take it they know her."

"They should…" Duncan uttered, his tone carrying a hint of disappointment. "She is the teyrn's daughter: Lady Everil Cousland."

Alistair's brows shot up. "Oh…"

Teyrn Cousland took his wife's hand, giving her a reassuring smile while urging her to sit. He then stood, his booming voice silencing the whispers in the crowd. "Proceed with the match!"

Ser Gilmore's head snapped towards him. "But your Lordship! I couldn't—"

"Come now, Ser Gilmore. Don't you think it is a little late for chivalry?" Everil said, an elegant smirk spreading upon her lips. "Besides, I believe you owe me a rematch after shamelessly cheating your way into a victory the last time we sparred."

"Heh… I suppose I do." He turned to her with a hopeless smile, respectfully bowing his head. "My apologies, my lady. I just didn't expect you to join in the festivities. Especially since your parents had expressly forbidden you to do so."

She chuckled, dropping into a fighting stance. "What can I say? I like breaking the rules."

"So I see!" He said as he rushed forth and closed the distance, slashing down only to have his attack blocked by one of her weapons. She leaned back as he brought his blade up, missing her completely. She then ducked and swung her blade, using her weight to compensate for strength as her pommel met his side, drawing a grunt out of him. He breathed in and took a step back, thankful for the armor's protection.

Ser Gilmore then swung his arm sideways, the pummel of his own blade missing her head by a hairline as she crouched. She then vaulted backwards into a backflip, nearly kicking his jaw before rushing forth, quickly slashing with her blades.

Up, down, side-to-side – He gritted his teeth as he blocked every attack. He leaned to the side, a blade swooshing inches from his cheek as he brought his leg up, kicking her square on the stomach and sending her to the ground. And while others in his position would have paused to check on his lord's daughter, he instead took the opportunity, moving in to bring down his blade.

Everil rolled over and pushed herself up, his sword stabbing dirt as she swung her legs at his feet. The hit knocked him off his feet and onto his back, and in seconds she was on him, straddling his waist with her blade touching his throat.

The corners of her mouth then curled up in triumph, her chest heaving as she breathed out two words: "I win."

The crowd roared, rising from their seats as they clapped. Her father stood with a smile, also clapping his hands.

Aldous approached the two as they pushed themselves to their feet, taking Everil's hand to lift her arm for all to see. "The winner of this year's tourney: Lady Everil Cousland of Highever!"

More cheers filled the arena as both fighters shook forearms, smiling at each other.

The cheers then grew silent as the teyrn began to speak, casting a warm smile upon his daughter as she gazed up at him.

"Well done, my child!" He said, loud enough for all to hear. "While this may have been quite the unexpected turn of events, your incredible display of skill has shown everyone that you are truly ready for the responsibilities I am about to bestow upon you."

He then turned his gaze towards those in the stands, raising his hand as he spoke. "My beloved people of Highever! As you all know, my son and I will be joining the king against the darkspawn in the south. Many of your sons, husbands and fathers shall also be marching with us, which will no doubt leave you feeling disquiet." He then glanced down at Everil from above. "But although nothing will keep you from worrying about those you love, know that you will all be in good hands while I am gone. My daughter shall be left in charge in my place. Please treat her with the same respect as you treat me."

"What…?" Everil breathed in bewilderment at the unexpected news.

xxxxxxx

"Your men are delayed?" Bryce said incredulously to Arl Howe, folding his arms over his chest as they spoke within Highever Castle's main hall.

"But you were to set out together. Being late to the king's call for aid is unacceptable," Uttered Eleanor, the teyrn's wife, disapproval in her aquamarine eyes.

"I am terribly sorry, my lord and lady. I fear this is entirely my fault." The arl said with apologetic eyes.

"No, no. It's quite all right. This war against the darkspawn has us all scrambling," Bryce said calmly, clasping his hands behind his back. "I will send my son ahead of me with my men. You and I can ride to battle first thing in the morning, just like the old days."

Howe proudly lifted his chin. "Only then we fought against Orlesians, not monsters."

The teyrn chuckled. "At least the smell will be the same."

Eleanor hopelessly shook her head at the two men before reaching for her husband's hand, lightly squeezing it. "Maker, I cannot stand wars... my stomach is already twisted into knots over you and Fergus leaving."

"I know," He replied, bringing her hand up to lightly kiss it, "But don't worry, love. We will be back before you know it."

They then turned to the doors as a soldier made his way inside, bowing his head lightly before speaking. "Your Lordship, the guest you expected has arrived."

Bryce smiled. "Good. Show him in, please."

Moments later the two Grey Wardens stepped into the hall, their escort leading them to the teyrn.

"Duncan! Good to see you again." Bryce greeted as he approached them, reaching out to shake Duncan's forearm.

"It is always an honor to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland. It has been some time." Duncan replied respectfully, shaking his arm as all warriors do. He then politely nodded to the teyrna. "My lady."

She stiffly returned the gesture.

"Grey Wardens?" Howe said with a troubled look upon his hawkish features. "How... unexpected."

"They arrived on short notice. Is that a problem?" The teyrn responded calmly, yet they didn't miss the subtle edge in his tone.

"Of course not, old friend." Howe responded, nervously fiddling with his fingers. "But guests of this stature demand certain protocol. I am… at a disadvantage."

"It is true we don't frequently have the pleasure of seeing them in person, however Duncan is a hero and a friend. He is always welcomed here." Bryce said as he returned his kind eyes to them.

"Thank you, my lord." Duncan said, respectfully bowing his head. And before further words could be exchanged, another door in the room flew open, drawing everyone's attention.

"Father!" Everil called in indignation as she walked in, holding up the skirts of her purple velvet dress while stalking towards him. "I can't believe you would choose to leave me behind like this. I wanted to go with you and Fergus!"

"I have already made my decision, pup. You are needed here." He replied sternly.

"But I-!"

"Everil, mind your manners," Her mother scolded gently and gestured to the others present. "We have guests."

Everil sighed in frustration, regaining some of her composure before turning her eyes to the arl. "Hello, Arl Howe. It is good to see you again."

"And you, child. I must say, you have grown into a lovely young woman," He said, his arrogant expression unchanging. "In fact, my son has been asking after you ever since he saw you at the last Denerim fair."

"Ah, yes. Thomas," She uttered dryly, recalling how the man had followed her around the entire eve, constantly staring at her breasts.

"Perhaps next time I shall bring him with me. That way the two of you could catch up."

She forced a smile. "My apologies, my lord, but I'm not interested in an arranged marriage."

The stunned look on the arl's smug face made Alistair stifle a chuckle, only to let out a yelp when Duncan elbowed his side.

Bryce shook his head, turning to Howe. "You see what I have to contend with here? You can't tell my fierce girl anything these days, Maker bless her heart."

Everil then looked to the two Wardens, her irritation dissipating. "Oh! It's you two!"

Bryce gazed at her. "Pup, you have already met the Grey Wardens?"

"No, but I… ran into them earlier today." She replied, sending the younger Warden a playful smile.

"You could say that," Alistair said, returning her smile.

Bryce gave her a quizzical look, then gestured towards the senior Warden. "Then allow me to introduce you. This is Duncan, the Warden Commander of Ferelden. Duncan, this is my daughter, as you no doubt already know."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady," Duncan told her before motioning towards his companion, "This is Alistair. My newest apprentice."

"Pleased to meet you." Alistair politely tilted his head.

Everil's smile widened. "The pleasure is mine…"

Duncan then set his sharp eyes upon her. "I was watching from the stands earlier. Your skills are substantial. I was impressed."

"Your compliment is appreciated, Ser," Everil said before letting out a chuckle, "A shame my Father believes they are of better use within these four walls."

"Everil…" Eleanor warned gently.

"I know, I know." She sighed hopelessly, stubbornly folding her arms. "Don't worry, Mother. Despite my displeasure towards the decision, I will do what Father thinks is best. As I always have."

"That's what I like to hear," Bryce said, patting her head as if she were still a child. "Now you two should head upstairs and inform Fergus he is to leave ahead of me. I will join you shortly."

Everil frowned. "I thought you were all leaving today. What changed?"

"Come, dear." Eleanor gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her out of the room. "I will explain on our way to your brother's quarters."

Upon the two leaving the room, Bryce returned his attention to Duncan. "Please forgive the interruption. My daughter can be quite spirited."

"A valuable trait in such times," Duncan said.

"I heard the Grey Wardens were recruiting. Did any of the warriors in the tourney pique your interest?"

"That is why I'm here, your Grace. The young man serving under you, Ser Gilmore. He showed great promise in the arena."

At this Alistair glanced towards him in puzzlement, knowing the knight hadn't been his first choice.

Bryce clasped his hands behind his back with a thoughtful look. "Hmm. He is my best warrior and practically part of the family. He is also the son of a bann, one who serves me loyally."

"I would like to recruit him, with your leave." Duncan's tone was unwavering.

"You have it." Bryce then tilted his chin up, giving Duncan a stiff look. "Now… considering today's turn of events, I assume you have someone else in mind."

 _Ah… so he suspects already._ Alistair thought to himself, his eyes going from Duncan to the teyrn while taking notice of the subtle shift in the atmosphere.

Duncan met the teyrn's gaze. "Your daughter. She would also be an excellent candidate."

The teyn's shoulders stiffened as he spoke, his tone rigid. "I figured as much. But this is my daughter we're talking about. I would appreciate it if you would please avoid approaching her about this."

"I thought you said Grey Wardens are heroes, old friend," Howe said behind him. "I would think it would be an honor."

"It certainly would be. But I've not so many children that I would be willing to send them all off to war," Bryce replied, giving Duncan a troubled look. "Unless… you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription."

Duncan's gaze softened slightly and he shook his head. "Have no fear, my lord. While we are in desperate need of arms, I do not intend to force the issue."

Bryce let out a soft breath of relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing. "I thank you."

 _So conscripting in this case is more trouble than it's worth,_ Alistair thought as he glanced towards his mentor _, The teyrn has a great deal of influence, sitting right under the crown. I can see why Duncan wouldn't want to risk making him angry._

"At any rate, I imagine you must be tired from your travels. Feel free to stay the night. You can march with me to Ostagar in the morning," Bryce said before turning to one of the guards, "Please take the Gray Wardens to Ser Gilmore. Make sure there is a room ready for them afterwards."

The guard nodded, slamming a fist to his chest. "Yes, my lord."

xxxxxxx

"I still can't believe you snuck into the tourney like that. Do you have any idea what could have happened? You could have been taken from me... still could." Eleanor said to her daughter as they made their way through the castle halls.

"Taken?" Everil raised an eyebrow, absently playing with a strand of her hair as they walked. "Taken by whom?"

"The Grey Wardens. They are looking for recruits to help fight against the Blight."

Everil smiled dryly. "I don't think you have anything to worry about, Mother. Father would never allow it."

"You don't understand," Eleanor said worriedly, "Grey Wardens have the king's leave to conscript whomever they wish—even someone of noble birth."

"Really? I didn't know they had that kind of power."

"They do. And I hope your father can keep them from getting any ideas. I will not watch my only other child be dragged into this war."

Suddenly a bark and a scream echoed through the halls, followed by a stream of curses as they passed the service wing. Their heads snapped towards the noise just in time to see a large dog burst out of the kitchen, a dead chicken secured within its maws. An old woman chased after it, a rolling pin in hand as she yelled at the animal. "You rotten fiend!"

"Magnus!" Everil called out as the dog ran towards her, hiding behind her skirts.

"You!" The old woman stopped before her, her wrinkled cheeks flushed in anger. "Your dirty mongrel found a way into the larder again! Do something about it!"

Everil gave her an apologetic smile. "He's a growing boy, Nan. He demands more food than what the servants give him, that's all."

"That dog eats better than most of our staff!" Nan retorted, gesturing to the hound as it shrunk back behind its mistress.

Having nearly raised her, Nan was the only servant in the castle who could scold her in such a way. It sometimes felt as if she had two mothers, there to scold her and lecture her everywhere she went. And this was one of those times.

"I'm sorry he bothered you, Nan." Everil sighed hopelessly as she reached down to the hound with her open hand. Magnus obediently dropped the chicken into it and she held it by the neck, unfazed by the dripping blood as she offered it to the cook. "I don't know if it is any good anymore. But here."

Nan shook her head with a disgusted scowl, taking the bird from her hand. "Just keep the bloody mutt out of the kitchen, or I swear I will leave this place. I cannot do my job with that beast roaming about."

"I know. From now on I will make sure to leave him in my room while I'm away. Will that help?"

"Yes, my lady." Nan replied tiredly, bowing her head. "It would be appreciated."

"All right then." Everil then turned to look down at the hound. "You heard me. No more raiding the kitchen for food. Understood?"

He whined a little, looking up at the three women with the saddest look he could muster.

Everil smiled lovingly, petting is head. "Oh that won't work on me, silly dog. I was the one who taught you that trick, remember?"

Magnus barked in response, happily wagging his stubby tail.

"Thank you, my lady. Now we can prepare food for our soldiers in peace." Nan said with a short bow before turning to leave.

"Good work. You always had a way with her." Eleanor smiled, patting her shoulder. "Maybe your hound will refrain from causing anymore mischief from now on. I swear that dog is too smart for his own good."

Everil chuckled. "I don't know. Seeing Nan chasing him like that was pretty funny."

"I can see why the dog chose you as its mistress." Her mother said with a chuckle of her own before they resumed their walk.

xxxxxxx

"Auntie Evy, auntie Evy!" Her nephew chanted as he ran towards her the moment they entered the room, wrapping his small arms around her waist. "Your fighting was impwessive!"

She smiled down at him, ruffling his brown hair. "Thank you, Oren."

Fergus walked up to her, folding his arms. "I imagined you would do something like that when I didn't see you with us. You put up a good show out there, little sister."

"Don't encourage her," Eleanor said with a sigh, "If she were not so fond of battle, maybe it would be easier for me to find her a suitor."

"Not many have the guts to marry strong women, Mother," Fergus told her with a laugh, "Although I'm sure the real reason is her utter refusal to let you or Father make decisions for her. She's as headstrong as a boar."

"I'm standing right here, you know," Everil said with mock irritation, still hugging her nephew.

"So, did you two come to see me off?" He said crossing his arms.

Eleanor's smile then faded. "Yes... and we bring a message from your father, dear. You are to leave ahead of him. "

"Ah…" Fergus' shoulders dropped slightly at the news. "So the arl's men really _are_ delayed. Maker, I swear it's almost as if they walked backwards, the idiots."

Standing a step behind him, Fergus' wife's face fell. "I wish we had more time... "

He gently took her hand between both of his. "Don't worry, love. I promise to write you each day."

She smiled lightly.

"Is it daw'rkspewn you will be fighting, papa?" His son asked excitedly. "I sure wish I could see it!"

"Darkspawn, Oren. And I don'believe it would be a pretty sight." Fergus half-joked.

"Maker, I don't want to think about it." Orianna said with a frown.

"Fergus will be fine." Everil said as she looked down at Oren, stroking the boy's hair. "Your Father is a better fighter than I, and you saw me defeat those big brutes today."

"Yes! You should teach me how to fight too, auntie!" Came Oren's energetic reply. "I want to learn how to use a sward too!"

"Ask your mother." Everil grinned.

"My answer is no." Orianna sighed at her sister in law.

Oren turned to his mother with a pout. "I never get to do anything!"

Light laughter filled the room as Bryce arrived, walking up to them and placing his hand on his wife's shoulder. "I see you have been given the news."

Fergus nodded. "Yes, I will ready the men and set out immediately."

"Father, have the Grey Wardens left?" Everil asked, and seeing her mother's glare, she quickly added. "Don't worry! I won't seek them out. I'm only curious."

"Grey Wardens! Were they riding on griffons?" Oren asked in wonder.

"Griffons are extinct, dear. They only exist in story books now," His mother said.

Bryce smiled lightly. "Yes. They came looking for recruits. They have decided on Ser Gilmore."

"Ser Gilmore? I see..." Everil uttered quietly, slightly disappointed. He had been around her since they were kids and they had even been involved in a bit of a relationship behind closed doors. Something he cut short for her sake.

Although he was the son of a Bann, he was still considered to be of inferior status. They would never been allowed to marry, or be anything other than friends. Chastity was important for noble daughters to marry into other noble families and reputation was everything for members of the nobility. So despite her advances, they had never shared anything other than daring kisses.

It had taken years for her to set aside the feelings she had for him, but she still cared for him as someone of importance in her life.

"I'm surprised they didn't ask for my little sister instead," Fergus said with a proud smile, gently punching her shoulder. She looked at him with mock irritation in return.

"It's better this way," Bryce said simply.

Eleanor stepped towards her son, eyeing him with concern as she lovingly stroked his cheek. "Please be safe out there, my dear boy. I will be praying for you every day you are gone."

"You worry too much, Mother." He gave her a gentle hug. "We will return soon, I promise."

"Pup." Her father turned to her. "You should head to bed now. You will need an early rise tomorrow."

Everil sighed, but nodded. "Understood, Father."

Fergus walked up to her, bringing her in for a tight embrace, speaking quietly enough for only her to hear, "Take care of everyone, Everil."

She wrapped her arms around her older brother, returning the hug as her chest tightened. There was a real possibility this would be the last time she would ever see him.

"Make sure you come back in one piece, brother," She uttered against his chest before pulling away, grinning up at him. "Now get out of here already. Those darkspawn are not going to kill themselves—Lucky oaf!"

"I'll kill a few in your name, don't worry." He chuckled, patting her shoulder.

She then left the room, leaving her family to talk as she crossed the hall into her bedroom. She opened the door and stepped inside with a sigh. The next couple of days would be a stressful few.

xxxxxxx

Loud barking and knocking on the door startled her awake, causing her to sit up with a confused look towards her door. Her eyes then turned to her dog, who was barking and growling angrily at the door.

Then more banging reached her ears.

She quickly pushed herself up, adjusting her nightgown as she walked to the door. "What's the meaning of this? Why—"

When she opened it, a small body collapsed onto her. Her arms automatically wrapped around him, catching him before she slid down to her knees to rest his head on her lap.

Her heart twisted upon seeing who it was. "O-Oren?"

A flash of silver suddenly came down onto her, making her eyes widen in surprise. Magnus lunged himself forward, trapping the attacker's arm between his jaws and biting down with crushing force, drawing an agonizing scream from the attacker. Before the enemy could defend himself, the hound had already pounced, knocking the man back onto his back and clamping down on his jugular, mercilessly ripping it out. Blood sprayed as the canine stepped off, leaving the man to bleed out upon the floor.

She nodded gratefully to the dog in a daze, before turning her gaze down at the little boy resting his head upon her lap. His back had been slashed open and he was hemorrhaging profusely onto her skirts, soaking the pure white fabric and turning it red. She immediately knew there was nothing she could do for him. He was going to die.

"Auntie…?" Oren said groggily.

"Yes, darling," She forced a smile for him, refusing to let him see the grief she felt.

"I tried… to protect Mother…" He coughed, blood beginning to stream down his lips. "But I'm not…like father…"

"No… she's safe… you were very brave, Oren. Your father is very proud of you." She whispered down to him, stroking his cold cheek with quivering fingers.

Anyone watching would probably say she was cruel for lying to him, for deceiving him, but she didn't care. She would be damned if he died feeling shame for himself. She couldn't save him, but she would make sure he went with pride and honor, like any warrior.

"Ah… I'm… a hero." He turned his eyes to look past her now, to an empty spot behind her, a small smile upon his lips.

"Mother? I… did save her…" He whispered, his voice fading as his breathing stopped and his eyes turned blank.

Everil let out a single sob, and then swallowed the thick knot within her throat. She laid down his corpse gently and stood, her body seemingly moving on its own as she quickly opened her trunk and replaced her bloody gown with her family armor. She could already hear more footsteps coming from the hall. But they had bypassed her room upon seeing the open door and the bloodied floors, going straight towards her parents' quarters. Something they would soon regret.

Once ready, she stepped out to see them bang on the door, her eyes catching the emblem painted on their shields.

 _Howe's men?_ She bit out inwardly, the grip on her weapons tightening as anger boiled up within her. _Maker…_ _Why are they doing this!_

"You all have your backs turned to me, presuming me dead. Not a smart move, boys," She said in a velvety voice, slowly walking out to stand between them and their only way out. The men quickly turned around, bloodied weapons in hand.

"It's Lady Everil!" One of them said as all color drained from his face.

"Ah… so you yet have the decency to call me by title, despite attacking my castle and shedding the blood of my family." She uttered venomously and took a step forward, the torches on the walls making her eyes glint red. "How very considerate of you."

They took a step back, but they were already cornered against the door to her parents' room. They hesitated, exchanging fearful looks. One of them swallowed, and dropped into a fighting stance. "Come on! She's just a woman!"

The others followed suit. "Let's kill her quickly!"

"Come then. I shall make you pay for every last drop of blood you have spilled within these halls!" She cried out enraged, and her dog charged first, tackling one of the soldiers down. She lunged forth, easily evading their attacks. She stabbed one in the neck, watching as he fell while making gurgling noises.

She twisted and pressed her knife on another's throat, slicing it with the length of her blade, much slower than she would for a quick kill. As another reached out to her, her dog bit his leg, pinning him as she brought around her sword, cutting his hand clean off. He fell and screamed, rolling over on his stomach as he cradled the amputated limb.

Everil looked to her hound. "Kill him."

The hound walked up and bit the man's neck, shaking him like a rag doll until it snapped.

Seeing that it was over, she quickly approached her parent's room and knocked on the door. "Mother, Father… it's me. Are you in there?"

The door slowly opened, revealing her mother, who had changed into her own armor, a long bow hanging over her shoulder. Upon seeing her covered in blood, she looked her over in a panic. "Andraste's mercy! Are you all right!"

"Don't worry. It's not my blood," Everil said calmly, her hands on her mother's shoulders, "Come. We must hurry before more of them show up."

"Who—" Eleanor looked down, seeing the emblem on a shield. "Those are Howe's men! Why would they attack us?"

"He has betrayed Father." Everil uttered with a scowl, putting the pieces together in her mind. "He delayed his men on purpose and they attack while our soldiers are gone."

"That bastard! I knew something was wrong! I will cut his lying throat myself!" Eleanor closed her hands into fists, her knuckles turning white before her anger turned to fear. "Have you seen your Father? He never came to bed!"

"No, but we must find him!" Everil said and made to walk down the hall. "Let's go."

"Wait!" Eleanor frowned worriedly, taking her hand to stop her. "What about Oren and Oriana?"

Everil stiffened, not daring to look her mother in the eye. She opened her mouth and closed it, unable to say anything. Her mother instead looked towards her son's room, quickly noticing the blood splatters trialing out across the hall.

"No..." She breathed.

"I couldn't save them..." Everil murmured painfully, "Oren was the one who alerted me… but it was too late."

"No! My little Oren!" Eleanor was about to rush to her room, but Everil's hand gripped hers.

"We don't have time, Mother!" She snapped sternly, "We can mourn them later! Right now we have to find Father!"

Eleanor choked in a sob and slowly nodded, forcing down the tears as they both turned to run down the hall. They fought their way through more soldiers that were making their way up to their sleeping quarters, killing anyone in their way. Everil would take them head on along with her hound, while Eleanor stood back, shooting arrows from a distance.

As they ran down towards the soldier's quarters, her mother grabbed her by the arm, stopping them both in their tracks. "Wait!"

Everil gave her an impatient look. "Mother, we must—"

"Listen to me!" Eleanor demanded, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears, "Howe seeks to kill us all, and if you die, the entire Cousland bloodline ends here. I don't want you bent on seeking revenge right now. Your goal is to survive. Do you understand?"

"If I see Howe, I will take the opportunity and run him through!" Everil replied stubbornly.

"Please, darling. Howe is not to be taken lightly." Eleanor pleaded above the sound of the screams, her loving gaze meeting hers. "Now promise me! Promise me you won't fight him! No matter what happens to me or your Father."

Everil let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine... I promise."

"Good. We will use the secret passage in the kitchen larder to escape the castle. It is possible your Father is making a stand in the main hall. We will look there." She said evenly, before pulling a key from under her armor and plucking it from around her neck. "Before that, we must stop by the vault and retrieve the family blade there. I want you to take it and bring it with you."

Her mother's eyes then narrowed. "That blade cannot fall into Howe's hands. It should severe his traitorous head!"

The Cousland blade had been passed down her family since the first. It was made of the toughest metal found in Ferelden, and its edge was still as sharp as when it was forged. Everil knew her mother was preparing her should the worse happen. While her mother used to be a formidable warrior in her youth, there was a possibility she would fall on their way down through the brunt of Howe's forces. With a nod, Everil clasped the key, hanging it around her neck. "All right. Let's go."

xxxxxxx

Soldiers surrounded every corner, and most of the staff had been slaughtered, even the guards who once stood by the vault. She took her family sword, discarding her sword to use it in its place. On their way out, she easily dispatched the enemies trying to get in, leaving their bloodied bodies behind.

They had finally arrived to the main hall, and the fighting on their way was taking a toll on her. She was tired, but she refused to show it.

"Your Ladyship, my lady! Thank the Maker you are both all right!" Ser Gilmore said with relief as he jogged over to them, followed by the two Grey Wardens.

"Howe's men surround the castle, we must move quickly," Duncan told them as loud bangs were heard behind the main doors, the remaining soldiers pushing against them in an attempt to keep the enemy out.

Everil gave Duncan a firm nod, then her eyes shifted amongst them. "Have any of you seen my Father?"

Ser Gilmore gestured towards the service wing of the castle. "The last time I saw him he had been badly hurt, but he was determined to find you. He told us to hold the gates while he went out searching for you. He went towards the kitchen."

She bit her lip, then turned to the Wardens. "Come with us. We know a way out, but we need your help."

"Of course. We'll follow you, my lady." Alistair replied without hesitation.

"Thank you." She uttered, giving him a fleeting smile before they made for the door. But seeing Ser Gilmore wasn't following, Everil turned around. "Come on!"

The banging at the doors became louder and the soldiers holding it shut were beginning to grunt against the force.

"I will not be going." Ser Gilmore said quietly, turning to the two Wardens. "Grey Wardens, please help them escape. The rest of the men and I will hold the door to buy you time."

Everil took a step. "What? You can't—"

"Go!" He snapped, shocking her into silence.

His eyes then softened as a sad smile spread upon his lips. "Please… You know this is how it should be."

Everil's chest tightened. "Ser Gilmore…"

Everything around her was falling apart and there wasn't a damn thing she could do. She knew that no matter how much she begged him to follow he would do what his duty as her knight demanded. Even if it meant giving up his life so that she and her family could live.

He took a step towards her and gently took her hand in both of his, his eyes meeting hers. "Just remember… you were not only my lady, but someone I treasured deeply."

She suddenly took hold of his armor and pulled him down to her, pressing her lips to his. His shoulders slumped as he returned the kiss and then she slowly pulled away.

"Thank you…" She whispered, holding back tears, "For everything…"

"It has been an honor," He uttered, gently caressing her cheek. "Now go."

"Maker watch over you, Ser Gilmore," Eleanor quietly told him, sadness in her eyes.

"Maker… watch over us all!" He said somberly and then ran to join the soldiers in holding the door.

xxxxxxx

Alistair watched the two women as they ran through the halls, a mabari hound he assumed was theirs running ahead of them. Duncan held the rear, following close behind them. He couldn't imagine what they were going through. Everything had been quiet mere hours ago, and suddenly chaos had taken over the castle. Blood soaked every corridor while the bodies of castle staff littered the halls.

Soon they ran into more soldiers, those who filtered in through the back of the castle no doubt. The teyrna stood back, releasing arrows onto them as Everil engaged them, weaving her way around their attacks and sinking her blades into them. The hound he had heard them call Magnus took down some of his own, ripping out their throats for quick kills.

Duncan easily dispatched the enemies coming from behind, his technique with the two blades much more polished than that of the lady running ahead. Like a serpent, he slithered around each attack, slashing through weak spots between armor plating, quickly eliminating any who dared follow them.

Alistair had busied himself engaging the bigger men, Howe's own knights it seemed. Magnus had stepped in to help, latching onto the enemy's weapon arm as Alistair slashed with his blade.

They made it through to the kitchens, soaked in blood and tired, stepping over the mangled corpses of the servants. Everil spotted Nan's body on the floor by the larder, along with some elven servants, all lying on a pool of their own blood. She closed her eyes and painfully looked away, walking past her body and towards the door.

Eleanor barged in, looking around the darkened room.

"There… you two are." Came the weak voice of the teyrn.

"Bryce!" Eleanor was quickly at his side. "Maker's blood! What happened? You're bleeding!"

"Howe… he… tried to do me in at the study," He said between gasps for breath. "I was looking for you… I am relieved... you are unharmed."

Duncan turned to Alistair and motioned with his head to the kitchen door. At which Alistair nodded slightly, keeping an eye out for incoming soldiers.

Everil's hands closed tightly around her weapons as she gazed upon her father's gaping wound, anger gripping her heart as she spoke, "Howe will pay for this, Father."

Bryce looked up at her with weak eyes, sweat and blood trickling down his brow. "You must go… tell Fergus and the king what happened."

Everil knelt down before him. "You can tell them yourself, Father."

He looked away from her, his eyes downcast. "I… I'm afraid I will not survive the standing."

"Bryce no! We can get you out of here! Find you healing magic." Eleanor said with urgency, pressing her hands to his in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding.

"I'm sorry, love…" He uttered. "I am too weak and the castle is surrounded. I will only be a burden to you."

"No." Everil felt her chest constrict once more. "You can do it. I can help support you. The Wardens can help us escape."

He shook his head, then turned to Duncan with begging eyes. "Please… get my wife and daughter out of here. You are their only hope."

"Of course, your Lordship. But I'm afraid I must ask for something in return," Duncan said as he knelt down next to Everil, "What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil now unleashed upon this world. I came to your castle seeking a recruit. The Blight threat demands that I leave with one and Ser Gilmore is no longer an option."

"Wait…" Everil frowned. "Are you talking about me?"

"Yes. You fought your way to us through Howe's men. I believe the Maker's intentions are clear." Duncan replied, turning eyes to her before casting his steely gaze upon the teyrn. "Should you agree, I will take the teyrna and your daughter with me to Ostagar. There they can tell the king what happened. After that, your daughter joins the Grey Wardens."

Alistair glanced over his shoulder, suddenly feeling wrong about what was about to happen. The teyrn was at death's doorstep, and yet here they were, practically demanding to take his daughter away to a war that might very well get her killed.

Bryce and Eleanor exchanged a glance, at which Eleanor hesitantly nodded. The teyrn swallowed, then spoke. "I… understand."

"But… I want Howe dead!" Everil said darkly, her eyes narrowing at him.

"Your revenge must come later." Duncan responded, unfazed by the dirty look she was giving him.

"Darling..." Her mother began gently, drawing her attention, "You will do it. You will survive this, help save Ferelden and avenge our family. I expect nothing less from you."

Everil's eyes widened slightly. Her mother had always been against her itch to fight and her need for adventure. Yet now she was pushing her into danger in order to save her life.

"Now go with the Wardens. You have a better chance to escape without me." Eleanor told her, turning sad eyes to her husband.

"What?" Everil breathed.

"But love…" Bryce protested weakly.

"Hush Bryce. I will kill every bastard that comes through that door to buy them time." She said with a determined look.

"No…" Everil's anguished eyes shifted between the two. "No! I can't let you sacrifice yourself for me!"

"I couldn't go on living without your Father, and if my life can help save yours then so be it." Eleanor uttered with a loving smile.

Bryce nodded weakly. "Go… make your mark on the world, pup."

Everil took their hands, holding them tightly. "No, please! Don't do this!"

A loud bang and the cries of soldiers echoed through the castle, sending a chill down her spine.

"They broke through!" Alistair alerted, turning to the group. "We should hurry!"

Duncan looked at his new recruit, pulling her by the arm, and separating her from her parents.

"No!" She cried out.

"Come!" Duncan pulled her towards the door at the back of the larder, Alistair and Magnus going ahead of them. She was dragged away as she reached out to them, watching her parents hold each other as she went.

"Good bye darling. We love you very much." Eleanor told her as tears rolled down her eyes, smiling weakly.

The three snuck out through the back of the castle, taking advantage of the dark the night provided. The sound of screams echoed from within, as the rest of their soldiers were slaughtered. Everil ran, following the two Wardens as if in a trance, everything around her just a blur. It felt like they ran for hours, and she panted as moments later they climbed up a steep slope. They emerged from the foliage to stand upon a hill that oversaw the castle in the distance, and she stopped, breathing heavily as she slowly turned around to make herself look.

Noticing that Everil wasn't following anymore, Alistair paused in his tracks. "Duncan, wait."

Duncan paused, and the two Wardens quietly turned to her, taking a few steady steps towards her as she stood still, her hair flowing with the cold breeze. Her hound sat next to her, looking on towards the castle. The faint light of torches surrounded her home, a deep black smoke rising from within as flames engulfed every room.

Suddenly feelings she had never felt before pierced her heart like a bear's jaws biting through flesh—grief and helplessness. Her jaw tightened painfully and her fists shook. She had lost everything she loved and everything she owned. All in one night.

Alistair gave her a sympathetic look, noticing her shoulders shake. "Listen…I'm—"

"Don't," She cut him off sharply, "I have no right to mourn their deaths. Not until I've severed Howe's head with my own hands." She then whirled around, determination in her eyes as a single tear slid down her cheek. She then began to walk, her head held high and voice even. "Now let's go. There is a Blight to stop."

The two men silently watched her walk past them as she entered the woods ahead, followed by her faithful hound, heading south.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

They traveled through the wilderness, further away from the castle. Duncan was grateful for the full moon, as torches would possibly draw unwanted attention in the dark of night. The plan was to avoid paths more frequently used by travelers in an attempt to keep Everil hidden long enough to make it to Ostagar. They knew Howe would most likely have soldiers out in the roads, ready to eliminate anyone coming from the castle.

Duncan glanced over his shoulder at his charges. They had been walking for a few hours, bloodied and worn from the fighting. Alistair was pushing on, but he could tell his feet were dragging. Everil seemed to be the most tired, but she kept her head up despite her slouched shoulders. Even their canine companion was panting heavily, his drool dripping on the dirt.

"If—or when—we stop to rest..." Everil's soft voice broke the silence. "Can we do so near a stream? I would appreciate the opportunity to wash off the blood and sweat currently caked upon my person."

"I second that request." Alistair added tiredly, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand.

Duncan quietly agreed, deciding it was probably more dangerous to continue as they were. He led them further into the forest, walking through bushes and over tree roots. The sound of running water soon reached their ears as they neared a small clearing between the trees, big enough for a small camp.

"You two set up a campfire, but stay close to this area." Duncan instructed quietly, turning to leave. "I shall go ensure we were not followed." He then stepped back into the woods, leaving the three behind.

"So he's your Commander." Everil walked towards the nearest branch and crouched to pick it up.

Alistair briefly glanced at her from over his shoulder and walked over to a dry piece of wood on the ground. "Yes. He's the leader of all Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Although he would tell you that doesn't mean much, since there's so few of us."

"How few?" She cradled her bunch under her arm.

"Not enough to defeat the Blight on our own." He knelt down at the center of the clearing and began arranging the branches. "We called for the Grey Wardens of Orlais, but the king doesn't want to wait for them to get here."

She walked up, handing him her branches. "Wait for them? Is something going to happen? I wondered why he called for our soldiers in such short notice."

"The king is planning one last assault against the darkspawn, in hopes to end the Blight then and there."

"Why in the south? Why Ostagar?"

"The darkspawn came from the heart of the Korcari Wilds, that's where you'll find the bulk of the horde. Ostagar is a fortress built at the edge of the woods long ago, to keep the wilders from invading. It's in a great defensive position, so it makes sense we use it." He then took the last branch from her. "You'll see when we get there."

She watched him pull flint out of the bag at his hip. He flicked them and soon flames illuminated the clearing, warmth replacing the biting cold of the night. The light of the fire finally allowed her to see in just how bad a shape she was. Blood and gore still clung to her leather armor, making her stomach clench in disgust. Everil looked towards the stream, hidden by the woods behind them. She then craned her head down at her companion. "Would it be incredibly rude of me to ask if you carry a change of clothes in that bag of yours?"

He gave her a bewildered look at the question. "Well you sort of asked anyway... Why?"

"Could I borrow them? I…would like to wash mine and it's a little cold for wet clothes."

"Uhm… sure." He stood and fished out his tunic and trousers. He imagined merely rinsing her armor wouldn't be enough to get rid of the blood that once belonged to her family and castle staff. And he couldn't blame her for wanting it off her as soon as possible. "Here you go," He said as he handed them to her.

She gently took them. "My thanks, Ser Alistair."

He smiled lightly. "You can just call me Alistair, my lady."

"Just Everil is fine then. We will be working together from now on, after all." Everil offered him a small smile of her own. "I look forward to traveling with you."

"Thank you… so do I," He said, reaching up to nervously scratch the back of his neck. He then watched as she spun around and began walking towards the stream, leaving him by the fire. Alistair let out a breath and sat down on a nearby log. He was certainly not used to talking to women, especially those as beautiful as she was… not that he had ever met one like her before.

Everil looked back at their small camp, making sure her companion was a good distance away. She could see he had his back to her, watching the fire. Then she tiredly began untying the straps on her armor. She carefully stripped before stepping into the stream, shivering as the cold water touched her skin. It barely reached her hips, but it was enough for her to kneel and wash off the dried blood from her body. Magnus jumped into the water, shaking off the grime clinging to his fur.

She laughed dryly at his obvious discomfort while running her fingers through her hair. "It reeks, doesn't it boy?"

Magnus stopped and looked at her, slowly walking over to her, deeper into the water. She scratched the back of his ears, then proceeded to gently rub his face, trying to help him wash off what he couldn't reach. She didn't know what was in store for her in the war, but she was glad at least her hound was with her. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, pushing down the tears that threatened to spill out of her eyes. She had already said she would not cry, not yet.

Everil released a breath and began to wash her clothes and armor, hanging them over a nearby bush. She then picked up the clothes Alistair had let her borrow. She threw on the basic white tunic, the cotton fabric soft and warm against her chilled skin. She lifted the trousers to look at them, shaking her head upon seeing they were obviously too long and small around the hips in comparison to her figure. At least the tunic went down to the middle of her thighs, enough to cover her body. It was not the most concealing of outfits, especially when in the company of men, but it was still better than nothing. Nodding to herself, she walked back to camp, her hound again following behind her.

Alistair looked up as she approached, only to quickly turn away at the sight of her very exposed legs.

Everil resisted the urge to giggle at how obviously uncomfortable he was with her state of undress and offered back the trousers with a small smile. "I don't think these will fit and I didn't want to force them on. The top will do for now, however… so thank you."

Alistair took them without really looking at her. "You're welcome."

She took a seat by the fire, bringing her hair over her shoulder so the heat would help dry it. Magnus lay next to her, also enjoying the warmth the flames provided. As she sat looking at the dancing flames, she began to realize just how tired she truly was. Her muscles ached from overuse and her eyes felt heavy with exhaustion.

Everil eyed the Warden as he busied himself with the coals. Slowly her gaze traced his features, from his strong jaw and stubbed chin, to his broad shoulders and strong arms as he poked the fire. And she found herself wondering, if under all the armor, his body was as well-built as it appeared. _He's quite handsome…_ She thought and found herself staring, but at the moment she didn't care. Admiring this stranger's attractive looks was a welcomed distraction from the depressing thoughts currently lurking in and out of her mind.

Alistair felt her eyes on him, the awkward silence slightly unnerving. He cleared his throat. "You know, I just realized there haven't been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?"

She let out a weak chuckle, leaning over to rest her chin on her hand. "Probably because they're not all as charming as you are."

A surprised look crossed his face at the unexpected compliment, finding the timing odd, considering what she was going through. But he was flattered none the less, and he suspected that perhaps she was trying to lighten the mood.

"Heh... Maybe you're right." He gave her a smug smile. "Sad isn't it?"

She smiled back, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "How long have you been a Warden?"

"Duncan recruited me six months ago," He said as he took out some beef jerky from his bag, offering her a piece, "Hungry?"

"No, I'm all right. Thank you." She shifted her eyes to the fire, reaching down to absently rub behind her hound's ear. "I imagine you've already killed your fair share of darkspawn?"

"I have, yes. I will never forget my first, though. I almost froze." He shivered at the memory. "Those things are terrifying. Have you ever fought one?"

She shook her head. "No. I can't say I've had the pleasure."

"Well I'm sure you will in the coming days," He said and then he noticed her eyes growing heavy, her head lolling to the side as she struggled to stay awake. His lips formed a sympathetic smile. "You should get some sleep. Duncan will be back soon."

A streak of pain crossed her eyes, then anger. She looked away, her shoulders stiff as she stared off at an empty spot somewhere in the woods. She spoke so quietly he had to strain to hear her. "I don't want to give Howe a chance to strike while I sleep."

His smile faded into a concerned frown. She had just watched her family die and they were still close to where it all happened. He didn't have a family of his own, but he imagined the deaths of loved ones could a painful, and even traumatic, experience. Alistair offered her a reassuring look as he softly spoke. "Look, I know we're still strangers to you, but you're one of us now. Duncan and I will keep watch and make sure nothing happens to you. I promise."

"All right…thanks…" Everil quietly with a subtle tilt of her head before she adjusted herself, lying on her side with her head upon her arm. She had never slept on the ground like this before, but she was too tired to care.

Alistair watched her as she drifted off, her eyes slowly closing. A moment later, a cool breeze blew over them, causing her to shiver in response. Her mabari rose and stepped closer, leaning his large body against her expose legs and resting his head upon them. The welcomed gesture caused her to exhale softly and she stopped shivering.

"Well... Don't you look comfortable?" Alistair whispered, giving the dog an amused smile.

Magnus snorted, too tired himself to further acknowledge the human male.

 _She has Duncan, her war hound and myself watching her back. I think she'll be just fine on the way to Ostagar._ Alistairthought, a corner of his lip going up. _Not that she needs much protection... with the way she defeated those men on our way out of the castle._

Rustling behind him made him rise to his feet, his hand flying to the sword at his hip. Magnus' head perked up, but upon sniffing the air he laid back down.

Duncan walked up to the camp, nodding reassuringly at Alistair, whose stance relaxed before he sat back down. Duncan glanced at the sleeping girl and her hound, and then took a seat on the log next to his junior.

"No trouble?" Alistair quietly asked.

"No. None followed," Duncan responded and then gazed towards the girl. "How is our new recruit faring?"

"Better than I would in her situation, that's for sure." Alistair took in her sleeping face from a distance, her beauty illuminated by the campfire. Then a troubled look slowly settled upon his brow. "Duncan… this doesn't feel right. For all we know her brother may not have made it to Ostagar alive. She could be the last of the Couslands." He turned worried eyes to him. "What if... What if during the Joining...?"

"There are bigger things at stake than a noble's bloodline, Alistair," Duncan said coolly, producing a flask from the bag at his side. He offered him the bottle, and for the first time, Alistair rejected the offer with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"It just feels like... like we lied to an honorable man." He kept looking over at her, trying to keep his voice down. "He entrusted her fate to us…and yet she could..."

"There was no deception. I made no promises outside of getting her out of the castle in one piece. Besides, her fate is not yet sealed. She may yet become that which her father wished for her to be, and more," Duncan solemnly said before he took a long swig of the liquid in the flask, enjoying the heat of the liquor he and his Warden brethren made months ago. He then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Our lives are constantly ruled by uncertainty, hers is no different. As Wardens we must be willing to take chances where most wouldn't, make sacrifices most would consider extreme in nature."

"I know that… it's just…" Alistair sighed, his distraught eyes focused on the flames.

"Idealism is not something we can afford during a Blight. You should know this by now, Alistair."

"All right, all right… I get it." Alistair weakly poked the fire and then tossed the stick into the flames as he stood. "I'm going to wash off now."

Duncan watched him walk off with a faint smile. The young man had grown much in the six months they've been around each other, yet it seemed he still had much to learn. He understood how he felt, however. He was born in Highever and had known the Couslands even before becoming a Grey Warden. He took another swig, and then gazed sadly upon the slumbering young woman across from him on the other side of the fire. And he found himself hoping she would survive the days to come.

xxxxxxx

Wetness on her cheek woke her up, and of course she already knew who it was. Everil groaned and rolled over, vaguely noticing that her bed had become unusually hard and prickly. The moist swipe of a tongue now shifted to her other cheek, persistently urging her to open her eyes.

"Stop… too early." She mumbled, gently swatting at her hound.

The smell of cooking meat then reached her nose, at which her stomach grumbled, obviously more awake than she. She pushed herself up, rubbing her eyes and yawning loudly.

"Good morning." She heard a male voice say, and she snapped her head towards the source.

Duncan gave her brief look, then turned the hare currently cooking on the fire. "We should eat and keep moving before Howe's men find us."

Everil looked at him groggily, then as his words spilled out, memories slowly streamed into her brain: The death of her family as her castle was taken by someone who had once been a friend to her family. She would not know if her brother still lived until they arrive to their destination. She could be the last of her bloodline… left alone to take revenge on the man who took everything from them. Everil felt her chest tighten, but she lifted her chin, showing nothing of what she felt inside. "I agree. The sooner we arrive at Ostagar, the better."

After waking his mistress, Magnus had turned to his next victim. He trotted over to the man lying on the ground on the other side of the campfire. He had rested his head on his folded arm, lying on his side with his sword lying beside him.

Magnus nudged his cheek with his nose, receiving nothing in response. He nudged again, a bit harder, this time earning an incoherent mumble as the human rolled over onto his back.

Everil cast gentle eyes upon her hound. "Leave the man alone, Magnus. Don't be rude."

Despite her words, the war hound suddenly stood on his hind legs then brought his weight down upon Alistair's stomach like a hammer. The human shot up with a loud groan, letting out a chain of expletives and holding his middle as he tried to regain the ability to breathe.

"Magnus! Bad dog!" Everil scolded him as if he were a misbehaving child, shaking her head in dismay as she watched him happily trot back to her. He wagged his tail, obviously pleased with himself while ignoring the disapproving look she was giving him.

Duncan let out a chuckle, his eyes laughing at the sight. "Well he's up now. Good work."

"Ugh…Good morning to you too." Alistair groaned irritably, holding on to his still sore abs.

"I'm sorry." She offered a sympathetic smile, ruffling her hound's ears. "Mabari hounds tend to be too smart for their own good."

"I knew that... I didn't know they could be jerks, though." Alistair shot the dog a glare. Magnus merely ignored him, panting happily as he enjoyed the ear rubs from his mistress.

"At any rate, I should probably go change before we go." Everil pushed herself up, careful to cover herself as she walked towards the foliage behind them. She promptly took off the tunic she had borrowed, and then slipped into her clothes and armor. She then fixed her hair, pulling up the top half of it and expertly securing it while allowing the rest to flow down her back. She held up the shirt, picking off the dirt and twigs from it, and then folding it neatly. When she came back Duncan had already quartered their meal, and was about to hand a piece to Alistair.

Everil walked over and offered Alistair his clothes back. "Here. Thank you again for letting me borrow it. It was quite warm."

Alistair looked up at her from where he sat, taking the bundle from her hands with a smile. "Sure. I'm glad it helped."

Duncan watched the exchange with interest, inwardly pleased to see that the two were getting along well. Recruiting didn't always go seamlessly, as sometimes characters clashed, which made teamwork difficult. In this case, there weren't many Grey Warden women, and the few who were weren't even in Ferelden. There were more prominent reasons why that was the case, but some of the most superficial, yet widespread, were the preconceived weaknesses behind the gender. This made it difficult for most men to work together with them. He was glad at least Alistair wasn't as shallow minded. Although he knew her obvious display of strength back in Highever had done more than enough to prove the stereotypes wrong.

They ate quickly, intent on moving on as soon as possible. The rest of the journey south was largely uneventful, with their conversations revolving around darkspawn and the Blight. Everil had observed the interactions between her two companions, their relationship vaguely reminding her of that of a father and a son. To her, Duncan was obviously the tough love sort of leader, firm and down to business, yet with a good heart.

Alistair seemed to be the kind, dutiful sort. She found he was like her in some ways—sometimes coating serious matters with humor, while Duncan fruitlessly tried to hide his amusement behind disapproving sighs and groans. Still, despite pretending to take matters lightly, he seemed to take his work seriously.

After days of walking, a fortress began to appear in the distance. She could see the obvious signs of wear and tear from the hundreds of years of weather erosion. And despite that and the additional damage obviously caused by past battles, it still looked solid and capable defending an army.

Everil was already feeling anxious. Her brother, if he survived the journey, would be amongst the king's forces. She tried to think of the best way to tell him what happened, about how his wife and son had been murdered under her watch. She closed her hands into fists at the fleeting thought.

As they arrived at Ostagar, they watched as the king himself headed towards them, escorted by two of his knights. His golden armor shone under the glare of the afternoon sun, his blond mane completing the almost ethereal sight. Everil still remembered that image from the few times she had visited the royal palace, and the familiar face gave her a slight sense of relief as he approached them.

"Duncan! Welcome back," The king greeted cheerfully, his smile matching the brightness around him.

Duncan let himself smile. "King Cailan! I didn't expect—"

"A royal welcome?" They chook forearms as Cailan smiled. "I was beginning to fear you would miss all the fun."

"I wouldn't miss it for anything, your Highness."

"Then I will have the mighty Duncan fighting alongside me to stem the tide of evil. Glorious!" Cailan smiled, one similar to that of an excited child. He then regarded the other Warden. "Welcome back, Alistair. I hope your journey was an interesting one."

"You have no idea, your Majesty." Alistair replied stiffly, his arms in an X over his chest as he gave their monarch a respectful bow of greeting.

Cailan then turned his attention to her, his smile softening. "Everil Cousland, Bryce's youngest. It's been some time since I last saw you."

"It has been, your Majesty." She gave him a polite bow of her head. "Two years ago. At the last royal banquet, I believe."

"It was quite the entertaining party, really. I distinctly remember you striking one of the banns squarely on the face over a rather rude remark towards your townsfolk." Cailan chuckled heartedly at the memory, his hands emphasizing the story. "The poor man slid across the floor and was out cold for hours. Everyone was scrambling trying to revive what was left of him and his dignity."

"Well he had it coming." She reached up to tuck a strand of brown hair behind her ear. "Besides, you didn't seem to mind much, your Majesty. As I recall, you had a large grin. Queen Anora had to elbow your side to stop you from laughing."

"I admit my ribs were bruised for days after, but it was worth it." The king's smile widened. "Watching a sixteen year old girl knock a large man unconscious is not something you see every day."

Alistair eyed the two curiously, noticing the familiarity as they spoke. There was respect behind her tone, but it was not the tense sort that protocol demanded when addressing a king. He figured the two probably knew each other since she was but a child, considering she was the daughter of one of the only two teyrns in Ferelden. A position he realized was second only to the crown itself.

"So you're the new Grey Warden recruit Duncan was to bring?"

She tipped her head. "Yes, your Majesty."

Cailan chuckled, giving Duncan a quick glance. "I can't imagine Bryce was pleased."

Everil swallowed at the mention of her father, unable to hold the question any longer. "Your Majesty, did my brother make it to Ostagar?"

"Yes, just yesterday." Cailan's smile vanished, frowning at the change in her mood. "Which reminds me... I expected your father would be here by now. Where is he?"

"Father's dead." She said softly, yet the words felt heavy as lead.

Cailan's eyes widened. "What...?"

"Arl Howe attacked the castle. He betrayed and killed my parents while our soldiers were away. I would have died too had it not been for these two Grey Wardens." She felt the familiar sting within her chest as he told him the story, her eyes reflecting only anger in an effort to hide the pain. "Had we died, he would have surely told you any story he wished."

"You parents…" He murmured in shock, still taking in the new, "What of your brother's family?"

She swallowed and looked away, unable to answer the question.

"I can't believe it…" He uttered as he began to pace angrily, a revolted look dawning upon his youthful features. "Did he honestly think I would let him get away with such treachery?" With a firm look the king then stepped towards her, placing an armored hand upon her shoulder. "As soon as we're done here, I will turn my army north and bring Howe to justice. You have my word."

Everil's lips pressed together, her brow furrowing. While she appreciated his unquestioning support, it didn't feel like that was enough for her. Her heart twisted with a hatred she had never felt before. She wanted to watch the bastard bleed out before her, see him die a slow and painful death. She shook her head, her hard eyes meeting his. "I want his head. Let me kill him myself, your Highness."

But unfortunately for her, the king was much wiser than he let on.

"I know you are angry, and you have every right to be. But the nobility may not look kindly upon you if you act on your own, even if he is the guilty party," He said, his kind blue eyes upon her.

"But—"

"No buts. Your father told you to come to me directly, no?" He lightly patted her head, effectively silencing her while also reminding her of Fergus and his own insistence on treating her like a child.

"I… Yes, your Highness." She quietly replied, a hint of frustration in her voice.

"Then do as I say and let me handle it," He said firmly, lowering his hand, "Now, I imagine you want to tell Fergus what happened. Unfortunately he is out in the field scouting at the moment. I hope you can understand that I cannot send for him until this is over."

She let out a bitter breath. "I-I am not looking forward to telling him."

"I don't doubt that." Cailan uttered with a sympathetic look. "For now, I suggest you vent your grief against the darkspawn."

She nodded mutely.

"Speaking of which..." Alistair spoke softly, "I hope things were still going well here in our absence."

"Of course they have been. I'm not even sure this is a real Blight." Cailan gave him a crestfallen look. "There have been plenty of darkspawn on the field, but there's still no sign of an archdemon."

Duncan raised a brow. "Disappointed, your Majesty?"

The king turned to look at the fortress behind him, its solid walls towering over the forest below. "I had hoped for a war like in the tales. A brave king fighting alongside the Grey Wardens to defeat a tainted god and end the Blight!" He sighed, returning his gaze to them. "But I suppose this will have to do."

"Your uncle sends his regards and reminds you that his soldiers will be here in less than a week." Duncan told him.

"Ha! Eamon just wants in on the glory!" He said with confidence before he let out a hopeless breath. "Anyway, I should head back to camp before Loghain sends out a search party. He's no doubt waiting eagerly to bore me with his strategies. Until later, Grey Wardens. And Lady Everil, remember what I said."

"Yes, your Majesty." She uttered quietly as they all bowed, watching him walk away with his retinue and crossing the massive bridge ahead.

Everil turned to her companions. "The king didn't seem to be taking things too seriously. What makes this a Blight, exactly?"

"Despite our victories, the number of darkspawn is increasing, to the point where they threaten to outnumber us," Duncan replied, "Only an archdemon can command forces this large."

"An archdemon is a tainted god, corrupted by the darkspawn. It's what leads them during a Blight," Alistair added grimly.

"I thought I heard about it somewhere." She frowned worriedly, recalling the terrible legends about past Blights told to her by her family's scholar.

"But although we believe there is one behind this, I cannot make the king act solely on our suspicion." Duncan gestured for the bridge, urging them to continue walking.

"Why not? He seems to regard you highly."

"Yet not highly enough to wait for reinforcements from the Grey Wardens of Orlais. He seems to think our legend alone makes him invulnerable." Duncan shook his head lightly. "We will have to go on as we are and look to Teyrn Loghain to make up the difference."

Loghain. She had heard plenty of stories about him since her youth. He was a hero in Ferelden—the farm boy who helped a king reclaim his throne and free Ferelden from a tyrant who enslaved the people. King Maric, Cailan's father, had rewarded him with land and the title of teyrn soon after, his reputation spreading across the lands. She had the honor of meeting him a few times, seeing a firm, down to business kind of man who would still do anything to protect his country.

"All right…then now what?" She said, gazing around at the fortress as they crossed the stone bridge.

"You will undergo the Joining Ritual, as all Grey Wardens have." He said, pausing at the end of the bridge and turning to them. "But before we begin, I need you two to fetch the other recruits. Alistair knows who they are. Once you find them, meet me at our camp. The hound can stay with me in the meanwhile."

They then parted ways, with Duncan and Magnus heading towards a large bonfire at the far end of the fortress. She followed him with her eyes, and then craned her head up to look at the open sky around them, mesmerized as the ragged edges of the towers seemed to touch the clouds.

"I told you it was a good defensive position." She heard Alistair say next to her, drawing her attention.

"It's incredible…"

"All right, come with me." He motioned for her to follow. "I think I have an idea of where the others might be."

"Hold on. I have a question."

He stopped mid step, turning to look at her.

"What is involved in this Joining Ritual? And why are there no details of it in the history books?"

"Uhm..." He absently reached up to nervously scratch the back of his head. "I'm afraid I can't tell you. It's sort of… a secret. Which is exactly why there are no records of it."

"A secret?" She gave him a critical look, stepping closer. "Come now, you seemed eager to talk to me about the Grey Wardens before. Why is this such a big deal?"

"Look…" He sighed, his apologetic eyes gazed down at her beautiful features. "I wish I could tell you. I really do. But none of us is allowed to discuss it with anyone who hasn't already undergone the ritual. All I can say is that it's dangerous and unpleasant. I'm sorry."

"All right." She sighed, her features softening. "Let's go."

The pair walked past a group of tents where people in robes stood. Everil eyed those gathered within with curiosity, watching them chant words she couldn't understand around a pedestal filled with a glowing blue substance.

"Mages." Alistair quietly answered her unspoken question.

"I have never seen one before. I thought they were not allowed outside the Circle of Magi?" She whispered back.

"They had to make an exception at the king's request. And let's just say the Chantry isn't happy about that."

Everil had heard many things about mages, particularly that they were dangerous and prone to demonic possession due to their connection to the Fade. The Fage was the world where spirits of the dead and demons resided, as well as where consciousness went when dreaming. But she also heard mages were incredibly skilled and powerful, useful traits when used for good deeds. They turned a corner to see a young woman wearing the red chantry robes hurriedly make her way towards them them.

"Ugh I think I just summoned them..." He muttered.

"Ser Alistair? The revered mother wishes to speak to you." She smiled, hands clasped together upon her skirts.

The Warden raised a brow. "Why would she need me? Shouldn't she call for Duncan, instead?"

"I don't know, ser. She only told me to come get you as soon as she heard you had returned."

Everil's brows went up. "Word spreads quickly around here, I see."

Alistair sighed helplessly and then turned to his companion. "I'll be right back."

"I'll be here." Everil said before she watched him follow the sister.

She was itching to go out and look for her brother. Tell him what happened and make sure he was safe. But despite the tightness in her chest, she knew her hands were tied. And just when she thought she could trust her Grey Warden rescuers, it seemed they had a few surprises in store for her. She just hoped she would live long enough see Fergus again.

 _I have to… I have to at least live long enough to tell him about Orianna and Oren._

Suddenly, a loud clatter behind startled her. She turned around, seeing an old woman trying to lift a box while wearing similar robes as the mages she had seen before.

"Are you all right?" She asked a she stepped towards her, kneeling down to help pick up the bottles scattered upon the ground.

The woman looked up, meeting her gaze with surprise. "Oh yes, thank you. I misjudged the weight and almost made a mess out of these lyrium potions." She chuckled with embarrassment. "You would think that at my age I would know better."

Everil smiled. "Allow me to help you. You hold that end and I will hold this one."

"You're too kind." She said as she held her side of the box. They both hoisted it up, walking it over to a nearby table.

"Thank you, child." The elder woman ran a hand over her forehead and gave Everil an inquisitive look. "I haven't seen you around here before. Are you perhaps the new Duncan brought?"

"Yes. And I take it you are one of the mages? Will you all be fighting in the front lines?"

"No, we will be assisting from the rear. We are defenseless when casting spells, so we are not good for front line assignments." She then bowed her head lightly. "Now since you assisted me, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Wynne. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Everil returned the gesture. "The pleasure is mine. I'm Everil."

"Such a pretty name. Simple, yet pleasant to pronounce." Wynne's smile broadened. "Your order will be fighting alongside the king it seems. Please watch yourself out there."

"I will." She replied with a smile.

"How utterly insulting of you!"

The two women turned towards the angry voice in time to see one of the mages glaring daggers at Alistair, who didn't seem at all fazed by it.

"I don't mean it as an insult, ser Mage." Alistair calmly told the man. "I'm only delivering the message for her."

The mage proudly lifted his chin. "We mages are too busy for this! Helping you Grey Wardens at the king's request, I might add."

Alistair grinned sarcastically. "Should I have asked her to write a note?"

"Your glibness does you no credit." The mage muttered angrily. "Fine! I shall go talk with the woman if she wishes. Move aside, fool!" He then stalked past him, heading towards the chantry's tents on the other side of camp.

"And here I thought we were getting along so well!" Alistair called out at his retreating form. "I was even going to name my first born after you!"

Everil approached him with a puzzled frown. "What was that?"

"Oh nothing… The revered mother knows I used to be a templar so she felt the need to use me as her messenger, just to let the mages know how unwelcomed they are." He replied as they resumed walking.

"Wait, aren't templars the chantry knights who guard the Circle of Magi and hunt mages?"

"That's right."

"And you were one of them? I can't imagine the chantry would easily let one of their knights be taken from them."

"Yes… long story."

She gave him a puzzled look. "So why did you deliver that message if you knew it would anger him?"

"You should try saying no to the revered mother sometime. I'm sure you'll just love sitting through her sermons as much as I did. Not to mention Duncan said we should cooperate and get along. Obviously not everyone got the same speech." He uttered irritably before giving her a relieved look. "You know, I'm glad you're not a mage. I think that would have made the situation even more awkward."

"Yes. I imagine it would." She said, chuckling lightly.

xxxxxxx

The Kokari Wilds. The swampy wilderness filled with horrific legends of witches, savages, and now darkspawn. The four young Wardens stepped out of the gates and into the wilderness, cautiously following the dirt path ahead. Duncan had assigned them with the task of gathering darkspawn blood for their Joining Ritual, and picking up some old scrolls from an ancient Grey Warden temple deep within the woods.

"I can't believe Duncan sent us out here like this." Said Ser Jory, one of Arl Eamon's knights and one of the recruits Duncan brought before she came along. He was the nervous sort, looking around anxiously while jumping at every little sound the foliage made.

Daveth, the other recruit, rolled his eyes at the knight's display of fear. "We're to become Grey Wardens—the very people who kill monsters for a living. Did you think they would coddle us instead?"

Jory gulped as they moved through thick bushes blocking their path. "No, but we don't know what's out there! There could be wilders…beasts… darkspawn could come out of the ground and eat us!"

"You are only making things worse upon yourself. Just focus on the task at hand and we shall make it back in one piece." Everil said as she walked ahead of the three men, her war hound having been left behind at Duncan's request.

"How come we're following the woman now?" Daveth had an amused look on his face, his grin spreading as he watched her hips sway with each step she took. "Not that I'm complaining. The view from back here is quite nice."

"I was wondering that myself." Ser Jory furrowed his thick eyebrows. "But it's hard to impress Duncan, so I imagine she must be good."

Alistair glanced over his shoulder, sending them a mildly annoyed look as he followed behind her. Apparently she hadn't brought up where she was from, and it seemed she wasn't planning to. If they knew who she was they likely would not be spewing such nonsense. She didn't seem to care about their remarks, however, instead continuing on in silence.

"The old Grey Warden ruins should be further south, up the hills." Alistair told her, pointing towards their destination.

Suddenly low growls sounded from around them, as flashes of fur and teeth jumped at them. She easily avoided a pounce from one, drawing her sword. She spun and swung, making the animal yelp as she sliced through its middle.

"Wolves!" Daveth yelled as he killed one.

"Don't turn your backs to them!" She shouted above the growls and barks, eyeing the beasts as they began to stalk around them. The four took several steps back, their backs touching as each of them faced a different direction. The wolves then jumped at them without hesitation, the group dispatching them one by one.

One of them grabbed onto her coat, trying to drag her. She kicked it, forcing it to let go before she then stabbed her sword into its chest. She hated killing animals, but in the wilds these beasts were probably man-eaters by nature. Soon the ground was covered in blood and fur, but the distant howling of wolves could still be heard.

"Bloody mongrels…" Ser Jory muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Keep an eye out for more." Everil sheathed her weapon at her back, and then resumed her walk; the men following close behind her. The scenery quickly became darker the deeper they went, the murky waters around them accentuating the ominous look and feel.

And as they continued on, they began to see bloodstains upon their path, as cattle and men lay scattered ahead. Guts and limbs hung loosely from the surrounding vegetation, the stench making her stomach curl.

"Help…" Came the faint whimper of a man some distance away, who was currently dragging his injured body over the ground. The group approached him cautiously, with Alistair keeping a hand on the sword at his hip. Stab wounds covered the soldier as he bled over the dirt, clinging desperately to life. He looked up as they grew nearer, his face lighting up upon seeing the griffon on Alistair's breastplate.

"Grey Wardens? Thank the Maker…" He said weakly. "Please help me. Darkspawn…they came out of the ground…killed everyone in my scouting party. I…I have to get back to camp."

"We should help him." Everil turned to Alistair. "Do you have anything we can use?"

"I have bandages in my bag." Alistair said and knelt down, dressing the larger wounds he could see. It was a quick fix, nowhere near as good as what the man would have received from a healer, but it would do for now.

"Thank you." The soldier stood weakly, holding on to his side in pain as he walked past them with effort. "Be careful out there."

"Did you hear that?" Ser Jory's fearful eyes shifted among the group. "Darkspawn killed a whole group of seasoned soldiers. There could be hundreds of them out there."

Alistair gave him a composed look. "Calm down, Ser Jory. While there are darkspawn about, they won't take us by surprise. Grey Wardens can feel them approach. That's why I'm here."

Daveth chuckled dryly. "You see, Ser Knight? We might die, but at least we'll be warned about it first."

Everil scoffed. "You two are nothing but cowards."

Daveth and Ser Jory shot her vexed looks. "What?"

"You have two choices: Continue with our task and help stop the Blight, or go home to your mothers and cling to their skirts while you watch the darkspawn kill everything in Ferelden." She said sternly, crossing her arms.

"But…I have a wife, with a child on the way…" Ser Jory replied, shifting under her stare.

"And that makes you special? Other soldiers here have families waiting for them back home. Yet they still came in order to protect those people. Now you seek to cower behind them, hoping their sacrifice will be enough to shield your family." She waved him off, unconcerned. "I don't know what Earl Eamon saw in you when he knighted you, but I must say, I am not impressed."

Daveth laughed at the astonished look on Ser Jory's face.

"How dare you!" Ser Jory took a step, his face inches from hers. "I am a Knight of Redcliffe! I serve the king's uncle and the crown!"

"Then prove you are worthy of that title! Show me you are man enough to protect your family with your own hands!" She retorted, unflinching.

"You just watch, lady." He said defiantly, his glare fixed upon hers.

"Oh I plan to." She waved him off once more, and then continued along the path, stepping through the blood and gore ahead of the three men.

Ser Jory huffed angrily and stalked after her, his hands curled into fists.

"Woah..." Daveth said breathlessly, a wide grin on his face. "I think I'm in love."

Alistair was shocked himself upon seeing that side of her. The way she just used words to push a man into motion…it was impressive. _No wonder the teyrn had so much faith in her ability to command his people._

They continued on, with him catching up to her to walk beside her before he glanced down at her profile. She was obviously stronger than he in more ways than one. If he had gone through what she had a mere days ago, he would likely still be curled into a ball somewhere.

"You know, I don't believe I've ever met anyone like you before." He said quietly, leaning over slightly so only she could here.

A smile tugged at her lips as she whispered back. "Are you flirting with me?"

"Maybe..." He replied playfully. "I was just thinking you seriously put those two to shame. They've been cowering since before we left, but you haven't complained once about any of this."

"Some just handle fear differently, I suppose." She uttered back.

As if on cue, another noise in the bushes made Ser Jory jump once more. "Blasted!"

She paused mid step, sending him a small smirk over her shoulder. "Don't worry, Ser Jory. I will protect you."

He simply glared at her, attempting to regain his composure before they resumed their walk.

Alistair leaned over to her once more. "I know I'll be counting on you to protect me."

Everil let out a light giggle, smiling up at him.

She refused to show it, but she was just as afraid as they were, having heard nothing but terrifying tales of the monsters they were soon to fight. But although they had nearly just met, Alistair's presence helped ease her anxiety, if only just a little.

It wasn't long before they ran into more death, as bodies lay scattered upon the ground anywhere they looked. They gazed up as they walked, spotting three men hanging from a tree, their innards spilling out and dangling openly.

The sight made an involuntary chill run up her spine.

"Poor slobs. That just seems so… excessive." Alistair uttered in disgust.

"No wonder people fear them so." She breathed out, then continued further. She noticed Daveth and Jory were fidgeting nervously, but this time she couldn't fault them for it. Darkspawn obviously loved killing and expose their work for all to see, but there was more to it than just a display of raw violence. Mess with your enemy's psyche enough, and you will drive away their will to fight. It was a brilliant tactic, despite its brutality.

Then suddenly Alistair froze, his arm shooting out to stop them from moving.

"What's the hold up?" Daveth raised a brow.

Alistair's eyes hardened. "They're here."

An arrow suddenly hit the ground by their feet, and their heads snapped up, eyes landing upon a dwarf sized creature currently readying another arrow from atop the hill overseeing their path. Meanwhile more enemies emerged from the trees, carrying bows and blades while otherworldly growls and snarls escaped their monstrous mouths.

They appeared as nightmarish as the tales described, and for just a second, she felt her resolve waver under their soulless stares. She had never seen something so sinister, so evil. There was nothing in those eyes, nothing but the silent promise of a slow and painful death.

Their deaths.

The sound of strings tensing filled her ears as several of the creatures prepared arrows, training them upon them.

In that moment reality came rushing back, and she found her words, crying out. "Scatter!"

The command had then running in opposite directions, arrows hitting the ground where they once stood. She gave the field a frantic look, taking in the enemy's position. Her father's training told her to eliminate enemies with a long range first. She ran up the hill without hesitation, rolling to the side as an arrow came too close to hitting her.

Everil pulled out her dagger, nearing the first enemy and stabbing it in the neck as it reached back to pull out its axe. Everil then took the bow and arrows from it, quickly throwing on the quiver.

Alistair ducked, avoiding a swinging hammer aimed at his head. He then hit the hurlock with his shield, throwing him off balance. He took the opportunity, running it through with his blade.

The faint snap of a bow was then heard, and he raised his shield to block an arrow. As he lowered it, he saw an arrow hit the same genlock archer before Everil sent him a nod from above. He gave her a quick nod in response, before he then turned to engage the hurlock rushing towards him from the side.

As Everil was preparing another arrow, she heard a growl behind her. She quickly whirled around, with just enough time to drop the bow and pull out her blades to block an attack. She gritted her teeth as it tried to overpower her, and only then did she have time to take in how monstrous they truly were. It was covered in pieces of armor that seemed to have been carelessly put together, the edges jagged and sharp, giving the creature an angry appearance. A helmet covered its face, but she could still see the row of sharp teeth dripping with drool and stained with grime. Her heart raced as she set her jaw and pushed down, driving its axe into the dirt.

It growled loudly, angrily plucking its weapon from the ground. Everil rushed forth, swinging her sword. It blocked with the handle of its axe, then pushed against her, making her stumble back. She saw it swing, crouched to dodge, then propelled herself forward, burying her dagger into its side. It screeched in pain, swinging at her with its fist as she dodged.

She gritted her teeth, lunging forth and driving her sword into its face.

Everil didn't have time to celebrate though, as the genlock she had been aiming at before the hurlock interrupted was still standing. Everil ran towards it, running low as an arrow zipped past her head. Her blade then found its neck, coming in with enough momentum to severe its head. She immediately saw another one on high ground prepare an arrow, aiming it down towards Daveth, who was busy dispatching another hurlock. She rolled, took the dead genlock's bow, and quickly fired an arrow, hitting the mark. The archer dropped from the tree, landing in a heap below.

Daveth looked up in time to see the arrow hit and the gunlock fall, and then turned his gaze towards the source. He watched as she stood, blood splatters all over her as she tilted her head his way. In that moment he instantly regretted all he said about her before. A hurlock then rushed her, raising its hammer.

He took a step. "Look out!"

She was ready to turn and attack, but someone hit the hurlock first, sending it stumbling back. Ser Jory stood behind her, drawing back his fist before he brought his great sword down in one powerful swing. It cut right through the darkspawn, slicing it in half.

She sent him a quiet bow of her head, he responded with a nod of his own.

Alistair wiped darkspawn blood and sweat off his cheek with the back of his hand, his eyes surveying his charges. Ser Jory seemed unhurt, Daveth appeared to be in one piece as well while Everil was walking towards him, also unharmed.

His shoulders relaxed. They survived their first encounter with darkspawn.

Everil sheathed her weapons. "So those were darkspawn."

"Aren't they lovely? I'm glad to have finally introduced them to you." He said as he put away his sword.

"Yes. I shall remember this day for the rest of my life." She uttered, running her fingers through her blood stained hair.

"I'm sure you will." Alistair replied, pulling a few vials from his side pack. "Anyway, we should probably collect the darkspawn blood now."

"Right." She uttered, taking a vial from his hand as the others approached them.

xxxxxxx

They soon arrived to the ruins of a tower, which seemed to have fallen apart over centuries of neglect. Tree roots and vines winded through the nooks and crannies, taking hold of stone and separating it into wide cracks that ran up what remained of be walls. It was deafly quiet, safe for their footsteps and the occasional rustle of the trees.

"So this is the Grey Warden tower in the wilds? Don't look like one much anymore." Daveth commented, looking around at the rubble.

"It was abandoned centuries ago. Too remote and dangerous to maintain." Alistair walked up the broken steps, followed by the others.

"Dangerous is a good word." Ser Jory added, kicking one of the rocks over.

Everil stepped closer towards Alistair, searching the area with her eyes. "So what makes you think these scrolls are still here?"

"Duncan said they were magically sealed in a chest, so that only a Warden could open it. Should be close by..."

"I found it!" Ser Jory raised a hand to them from a far corner in the ruins.

They jogged towards him, stopping to cast their eyes down at a broken old chest. It was cracked wide open, easily accessible.

"So much for those seals…" Everil muttered kneeling to search inside. After a moment, a troubled look dawned upon her brow. "Uhm…"

"What's wrong?" Alistair asked as he knelt next to her to pick up parts of the pile of rubble, releasing a disappointed groan upon finding nothing. "Oh no… They were stolen!"

"Well, well... What have we here?"

Their heads shot up, their eyes landing on a woman who was currently gazing down at them from over the rock railing on the floor above them. Walking towards the steps, the strange woman cast her catlike, yellow eyes upon them, eyeing their every move with both curiosity and mistrust. "Intruders… or perhaps scavengers. Scurrying about these darkspawn filled wilds of mine in search of easy prey."

Everil rose and took a step, her eyes narrowing at her. She had an almost unnatural beauty, with pale skin and midnight black hair, her full lips accentuated by purple paint that matched the magenta powder coloring her eyelids. Her delicate body was mostly exposed through the scraps of fabric she wore, leaving close to nothing to the imagination.

"What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?" She asked again, folding her arms while regarding her and ignoring the rest.

"Neither. We're Grey Wardens and this tower once belonged to us." Everil replied, casting defiant eyes upon the stranger.

"'Tis a tower no longer. The wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse." She said before walking past them as she spoke. "I have watched your progress for some time. 'Where do they go?' I wondered. 'Why are they here?'"

She then turned to them. "Now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?"

"Don't answer her." Alistair sent the woman a suspicious look. "She looks Chasind. And that means others might be nearby."

"Oh?" The woman turned amused eyes towards him, waving her arms for emphasis as she spoke. "You fear barbarians would swoop down upon you?"

He scowled at her. "Yes… swooping is bad."

"She's a witch of the wilds, she is." Daveth said in fear. "She will turn us into toads!"

An amused smirk dawned upon the woman's face. "Witch of the wilds? Such idle fancies those legends. Have you no minds of your own?" She then returned her eyes to Everil. "You there. Women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."

Everil's gaze met hers once more. If this woman had what they sought, it would do them no good to be rude. "My name is Everil. A pleasure to meet you."

"Now that is a proper civil greeting! Even here in the wilds. You may call me Morrigan." She smiled. "Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest? Something that is here no longer?"

"Here no longer? You took them didn't you?" Alistair scowled, eyeing the woman's staff. "You're some kind of… sneaky…witch-thief!"

"How very eloquent." She chuckled. "How does one steal from dead men?"

"Quite easily it seems." His eyes narrowed. "Those documents are Grey Warden property and I suggest you return them."

Morrigan shot him a dirty look. "I will not for 'twas not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer, if you wish. I am not threatened."

"Our apologies. We're weary and wish to leave the wilds as soon as possible." Everil interjected softly, drawing the woman's attention back to her. "It's possible those scrolls can help us fight the Blight. Do you know who took them?"

"'Twas my Mother, in fact." The woman relaxed her posture.

"Can you please take us to her?"

"Now there's a sensible request!" The woman gave her an approving smile. "I like you."

"I'd be careful… First it's 'I like you', but then 'zap!' Frog time." Alistair told his female companion.

Morrigan ignored him, her attention still upon her as a sinister smile spread over her lips. "I shall take you to my home then. But first a word of caution to your cowering companions: Try anything foolish, and risk being turned into a pile of charred corpses."

With that she turned on her heel.

Everil cautiously began to follow, her gaze trainer upon her back.

Morrigan led them deeper into the wilds, through the thick of the brush.

"Charred corpses...I don't like this." Ser Jory muttered as the three men walked a distance behind the women.

"What's that I hear? Is our lady's pep talk wearing off?" Alistair sent the knight a teasing smile.

Ser Jory glared back at him. "I just would rather not be put in a pot and eaten."

A rackety old hut then emerged from behind the thick foliage, the shadows cast upon it by the trees making it look like something out a horror story. They arrived to see an old woman cooking by a fire just outside the house. She was kneeling over the flames, churning the stew. She looked up from the fire as they approached, her amber eyes looking over the strangers as she stood.

"Mother, I bring before four Grey Wardens who—"

"I see them, girl." Her withering voice sounded amused, as she turned to the foremost member of the group, Everil.

"I take it you came to the wilds in search of the old scrolls." The old woman's lips curled into an unsettling smile. "Your Warden Commander is smart to seek them out. They may yet come in handy against the Blight in the coming days."

"How do you know all this?" Alistair frowned, giving the old woman a suspicious look. "We haven't even mentioned what we're looking for."

"What else could it be, boy? I doubt you were sent out here to fight the horde on your own." She cackled.

"Fair enough." He mumbled.

"She's the witch of the wilds, she is." Daveth gulped, shifting uncomfortably. "We shouldn't be talking to her!"

"Quiet Daveth! If she really is the witch of the wilds, do you want to make her mad?" Ser Jory shot back at the man, visibly nervous himself.

"There's a smart lad," The old woman told the men, her yellow teeth showing through her smile. She then turned to Everil. "And what of you? Does your female mind give you a different view point? Or do you believe as these boys do."

Everil's eyebrows came down into a frown. "I am no fool, if that's what you're asking." There was obviously more to this woman than just a weak old body. She could feel it in the air around them. This was not someone to be reckoned with.

"Well if you must jump up so quickly, then perhaps I need not ask." She laughed, her cackling adding to her intimidating vibe. "But who knows… Am I perhaps that which you fear? I may even be something more. Your minds will wonder even as you leave this place."

"They didn't come to listen to your wild tales, Mother," Morigan muttered irritably, "We should give them what they came for so they can be on their way."

"Oh yes, the treaties... the old treaties." The old woman turned around, going into the old hut and emerging with a small bundle of scrolls. She handed them over to Everil. "Here you have them. Lucky for you, it was I who took them. Your seal had worn off long ago. I kept them safe."

"Thank you for returning them," Everil said with a curt nob.

"Such manners... I take it you're not the average girl where you hail from." The old woman grinned widely.

"You have your scrolls. Off with you now," Morrigan said with a wave of her hand.

Her mother gave her a disapproving look. "Don't be ridiculous, girl. These are your guests. We must see them to the door, as any good host should."

Morrigan sighed. "Fine... I shall accompany you out of the woods. Follow me."

xxxxxxx

King Cailan leaned back against his chair, his eyes tracing the elegant words on the paper in his hand. It was a letter from the Empress of Orlais, agreeing to work together to defeat the Blight. To say Loghain didn't like the idea was an understatement, but the man had more than one valid reason for going against the decision. It had been over thirty years since his father took back Ferelden from Orleis. Too short a time when compared to the hundred years of suffering their people had to endure under their rule. Still seeking the opportunity to make peace and gain allies was important, and they needed help now, regardless of the past.

The flap to his tent flew open, revealing the aforementioned man. Lodhain stalked towards his desk. "The scouts say the horde is on its way here. They will arrive on schedule."

"Lothering is not far from here. It's imperative we stop those creatures here, or that will be the first village to fall against them." Cailan stood, walking towards the bottle of wine sitting upon a small table beside his desk.

Loghain nodded. "Teyrn Cousland's men have helped thin their numbers, but they are returning with many casualties. I still doubt this is a true Blight, but we mustn't underestimate them."

The king nodded, taking a drink and looking over his shoulder at his late father's old best friend. "A shame he's not here to see his lineage help win the war."

"Yes… most unfortunate," Loghain said dryly.

"Once we're done here, I want us to assess what remains of our forces. We will be bringing them against Howe for his actions," Cailan told him and put down the chalice.

"Should we not let the Landsmeet handle these matters, your Highness?" Loghain's hard eyes followed him as he sat back down behind the desk.

"I had called upon his forces for aid, and instead he takes it upon himself to use them against one of my most loyal subjects. I would say that goes beyond the nobility, at this point," He said with a humorless smile, "Besides, I made a promise to his daughter, and regardless of your opinion, I take my promises seriously."

"Do you still harbor feelings for that girl?" Loghain said with an edge in his voice.

Cailan's brow went up, "What?"

Loghain reached out to the desk, picking up the quilt and twirling it between his fingers as he spoke. "You were all too eager to talk to her after your first meeting in the palace, when Bryce brought her to meet Maric on the very day she became of marrying age. Had it not been for the agreement your father and I had before he died, I imagine you would have chosen her as your arranged bride. Could it be you still feel that way?"

"Don't be absurd… While I admit her beauty still captivates me, I would not disrespect your daughter by seeking her out." Cailan responded calmly, then his blue eyes met the teyrn's icy ones."Unlike Anora, I have remained faithful. This despite our failure to produce an heir. Don't make me out to be the one at fault for what's happening between us."

Loghain's shoulders stiffened at his words, speaking through clenched teeth as he tried to retain his composure. "How dare you accuse her of such a thing...?"

"Not a mere accusation… Not when my own castle staff whispers about it behind my back," Cailan said, uncaring. "Either way, the problems between Anora and myself are ours alone, Loghain. I suggest you stay out of it and refrain from getting others involved in it."

Loghain remained silent, his glare speaking volumes instead.

"Now if you have nothing else to lecture me about, I have business to attend to." Cailan gestured to the tent's door.

"Yes, your Majesty." Loghain bowed stiffly, glancing over the desk. His scowl deepened when seeing the letters upon it, but he said nothing, turning to walk away.

Another man walked in, this time it was Elric Maraigne, Cailan's confidant and one of the men in charge of guarding him.

Elric gave the passing Loghain a curt bow, one that was ignored as the teyrn reached the doorway and roughly opened the flap.

Elric turned to Cailan. "Did I interrupt, your Majesty? I am terribly—"

"Nothing of the sort." His face lit up with a smile. "Loghain's just doing what he does best: Argue with me over every decision I make."

Cailan then stood and walked to the door, lifting the flap just enough to say something to his guard before securing it. He then motioned for him to follow him to his desk.

"Elric, what do you think of the war so far? Have you heard anything we don't already know?" He asked quietly, gesturing for the wooden chair next to his desk.

The old man sat as instructed. "I…overheard the Wardens were concerned about the cheer number of darkspawn coming our way. They don't have high hopes for tomorrow's battle."

"I see..." Cailan didn't seem surprised. "Elric, you are the one person I trust most. And there's something I must ask of you… something very important."

The servant looked at his young king with concern. "Of course, your Majesty.

Cailan reached into his collar, producing a thin chain out from under his armor and pulling it over his head. Elric watched quietly as Cailan took the letters from his desk and folded them neatly, only to put them in a large steel truck nearby. He then reached for the sword at his hip, unsheathing it and placing it inside before closing the chest, locking it with the key.

"Your Majesty?" Elric's grey brows formed a frown as Cailan stepped to his desk and took a seat.

"This may sound odd to you…but I want you to keep this key." Cailan said, smiling at the old man as he handed it to him.

Elric took it with a confused look. "What do you need me to do with it, your Highness?"

The king's smile faded into a somber look. "Keep it hidden from everyone for now. No one but you should know of it. If I die tomorrow, I want you to seek out Grey Warden Alistair and deliver it to him directly."

"Grey Warden Alistair…" Elric echoed. He couldn't quite understand what was happening, but the conversation made his chest feel heavy with dread.

"If we fail tomorrow, the contents of that chest may help save Ferelden," Cailan uttered as he looked down at his hands, clasping his fingers together, "And he… will be the best suited to undertake that responsibility."

"But King Cailan… I thought you said victory was certain." Elric clutched the key, his knuckles turning white. He had known the young Prince since he was but a child. Their relationship had been more than that of a servant and his lord, he dared say he was almost like a son to him.

Cailan simply smiled once more. "Go see how the soldiers are doing. I want to make sure they're prepared."

Elric nodded mutely and bowed before walking to the door, his hand covering the spot where the key now hung, securely hidden.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

The gates to Ostagar opened, allowing the four travelers back within its walls. Everil led them back to Duncan, who had been waiting for them by the bonfire near the Warden camp.

"Good, you have returned." He greeted them with a small smile. "Were you successful?"

Alistair frowned. "Barely… a crazy old apostate had them."

"An apostate?" Duncan inquired curiously.

"Two of them. They seemed to have been living in the wilds for a long time. Probably hiding from the chantry and the templars."

"That is not our concern. You're not a templar any longer, Alistair. Let us focus on the task at hand."

"Yes, Duncan." Alistair replied quietly. "What do we do with the scrolls?"

"Hold on to them for now." Duncan then turned to the rest of the group.

"While you all were gone, I had the circle mages prepare the rest of what is needed. We are ready to commence immediately."

"Let's get it over with." Everil responded firmly. She still didn't like the secrecy around the whole thing, but she had no other choice.

"I agree, let's have it done." Ser Jory joined in.

"Good." Duncan then turned to Alistair. "Take them to the old temple. I will finish up the preparations and join you shortly."

"Understood." Alistair replied before he gestured for them to follow.

Soon it was just the four of them once more, gathered deeper in the fortress ruins and away from the eyes of those in camp. She couldn't deny the secrecy was unnerving, but it seemed she had no other choice but to proceed.

She gazed to those around her. Each of them had their own reasons to live, but they were in the same situation as she. It was odd how hat knowledge made it a little easier to handle.

"I don't like this. I thought we already proved our worth. Why another test?" Ser Jory said anxiously.

"Every Grey Warden has to go through the Joining. That's how we obtain our... special abilities. You'll understand soon, if you survive." Alistair quietly told them, a sympathetic look over his features.

"If we survive?" Daveth asked. "Just how much danger are we in?"

"I don't think it matters at this point." Everil uttered, drawing the attention of the men. "If we die it might as well be like this. If darkspawn advance further north, we will all die regardless."

"But what's the point? We can fight them just as well!" Ser Jory protested.

"I'm sure there is more we are not being told." She gazed towards Alistair with resolute eyes. "But I'm also certain they are doing what they must. Otherwise no one would be willing to make whatever sacrifices are necessary to protect mankind from the Blight."

He returned her gaze with an apologetic look. Her main goal had been to bring revenge upon the man who slaughtered her family. Now there was a real chance she might die without even telling her brother what happened.

Alistair felt an unsettling feeling crawl up his chest at the thought. They had only known each other for a few days and yet she had already left a big impression in him, so much so that if she died he would regret ever taking part in it.

"You're right." Daveth said as he scratched his chin. "I don't think I would have ever thought of joining had Duncan not conscripted me when the Denerim guards threatened to take me in. I was sure to die of hanging anyway. I guess at least this would have some honor to it."

"But... My family." Ser Jory's eyes shifted between his companions, his shoulders tense.

"Again with that? And here I thought you had grown a spine after the wilds." She folded her arms, tilting her hip. "Will you not at least do this for your family?"

"I just have never fought a foe I could not engage with my blade." Ser Jory said hopelessly.

Footsteps made the four companions crane their heads to Duncan as he walked towards them, a chalice in his hands.

He placed the cup upon the nearby table, and then turned to them. "This ritual has been performed since the first Grey Wardens learned to use the blood of our enemies to master their taint. Those before us followed on their footsteps, and so did we before you."

"Wait… we're going to drink the blood of those…those creatures?" Ser Jory took a step back, his eyes wide.

"Drinking their blood makes us immune to the taint." Alistair quietly said. "It also allows us to sense their presence and grants us what we need to defeat the archdemon."

"We say only a few words before we begin." Duncan said solemnly. "Alistair, if you will."

"Join us brothers and sisters. Join us as we stand in the shadows, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that soon, we shall join you." Alistair's eyes were cast to the ground, repeating words almost sacred.

Duncan then took the chalice and approached the first recruit. "Step forward, Daveth."

The rogue's jaw set and he took a confident step. No further questions were asked as he took the chalice and drank a single gulp from it. Everil watched intently from behind, her lips pressed into a thin line as she waited for a reaction.

Suddenly, Daveth let out gurgling coughs as he folded at the middle, scratching at his throat. Everil's eyes widened as she watched her companion convulse in pain, the sight leaving her rooted to the spot. He fell on his knees and then to the floor, his body shaking as he struggled to breathe.

"I am sorry, Daveth." Duncan regretfully gazed down at the man as he slowly died.

He then turned to Ser Jory.

What remained of the knight's courage faded as he took a step back, his terrified eyes glued to Daveth's corpse. "But I have a wife... a child…"

Everil couldn't utter a word of encouragement at this point, for even with all her prowess she too was scared of that chalice.

Duncan kept approaching the knight, cornering him to a wall.

"There is no turning back." He said cryptically, his sharp eyes boring into his.

Ser Jory fearfully reached for his great sword. "N-no! You ask too much! There is no glory in this!"

Duncan put down the chalice, drawing his own weapon as the knight cowered and raised his sword.

The Warden moved in, deflecting the first swing of the sword with his dagger. He then shot forth, burying his blade into the knight's side.

Everil watched in consternation as Ser Jory sank to the floor, eyes wide as his blood pulled under him. Her heart was be beating wildly, her survival instincts telling her to run. But she willed her feet to stay put as Duncan now set his sights upon her. The warm look in his eyes was gone, replaced by the cold eyes of a predator, as Ser Jory's blood splattered his armor.

"Everil. Come forth."

She felt herself gulp. There seemed to be a fifty-fifty chance she was going to die right now. She still had unfinished business. Still had to avenge her family, talk to Fergus and help him take back what was once theirs. But as she reached out to the chalice, she realized none of that truly mattered. For although it was hard admit, the Blight's threat was of greater importance than what she was currently going through.

Therefore she would uphold her duty as a Cousland. She would help defeat the Blight, or die trying.

She brought the chalice to her lips, allowing the foul-smelling liquid to pour into her mouth as its bitterness coated her tongue. She grimaced as she swallowed, the substance burning its way down her throat.

Then it hit her like a rushing druffalo, a hundred voices filling her mind all at once. She reached up for her head, a headache piercing her brain.

Duncan took the chalice from her. "From this moment on, you are a Grey Warden."

A coughing fit rocked her body and she took a step back, feeling light headed as her eyes rolled back into her head. Searing pain spread through her, as if molten metal had been pumped into her veins. She vaguely felt herself falling and a pair of strong hands catching her, then vivid images of a dragon flooded her mind, and she was no longer able to stay conscious.

Alistair gently laid her down on her back and then took a knee next to her. He looked her over with concern as her fingers twitched stiffly, the taint spreading over her.

"She made it." Duncan said with visible relief, putting down the chalice.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to this." Alistair said before letting out a breath, his shoulders slumped.

"You don't." Duncan admitted, standing by Alistair while they waited for her to wake up. "You can only tell yourself that the sacrifice is necessary."

Moments later a whimper escaped her lips, her eyes slowly opening to see the two men gazing down on her.

"Welcome." Duncan greeted, his sharp eyes upon her. "How are you feeling?"

Everil hugged herself, her muscles aching. "I... I've never felt so much pain in my life."

"Such is what it takes to become what we are." Duncan uttered somberly.

"Did you have nightmares? I had terrible nightmares after my joining." Alistair offered her a hand, which she took as he helped her stand.

"I did..." She breathed. "So many darkspawn…"

Alistair walked over to the table, picking up a set of leather armor and a pendant sitting on top. He offered the bundle to her. "Here… You've earned the Grey Warden garbs."

"Thank you…" She said softly, wrapping her fingers around the vestiges and admiring the regal griffon spread over the chest plate. She then picked up the pendant, lifting it to take a closer look at the swirling red liquid inside.

"We use some of the blood we collected for the pendant." He quietly told her, somberly gazing down at her. "It's meant to remind us of those who didn't make it this far."

She turned her eyes to the floor, where only blood stains remained. "Where are they?"

"Their bodies were collected by the Chantry. They will be sent back to their families to receive a proper ceremony." Duncan said as he folded his arms, following her line of vision. "Right now we have more important matters to worry about. The king has asked for our presence. We are to speak with him immediately, so get ready and meet me at the other side of the temple."

"Understood..." Everil replied quietly.

She and Alistair then watched as Duncan walked down the steps leading out of the room.

Alistair made to follow, hesitating mid-step before giving her a concerned look. "Will you… be all right?"

She paused as she gazed at him. She wasn't sure how to feel about what happened just yet, but she could imagine that perhaps he felt guilty for it. It wasn't easy to keep a deadly secret from someone, regardless of what duty demanded. So she couldn't be angry with him for it, and she couldn't blame Duncan for doing what was necessary.

"Yes, I'll be fine." She said, offering him a reassuring smile. "Thanks for your concern."

"Anytime…" He said with a brief nod, a small smile on his lips before he turned to follow Duncan, feeling more than a little relieved that she survived.

Everil approached Duncan and Alistair as they stood with the king and others around a long table, a map of Ostagar laid out over it. She looked it over from where she stood, crossing her arms as the argument between Cailan and Loghain escalated.

"The frontline is too dangerous for you to be playing hero, Cailan." Loghain had a severe look on his eyes, his jaw set as he scolded the king.

"Loghain, my decision is final. I will be leading the battle along with the Grey Wardens."

"You risk too much! The bulk of the horde is not to be taken lightly."

Cailan's eyebrows met in a glare. "Then perhaps we should wait for the Orlesian forces to aid us."

Loghain pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders stiff as if trying to restrain himself from yelling at the king. "I must repeat my protest to your fool notion that we need the Orlesians to help us in this war."

Cailan's eyes narrowed. "It's not a fool notion. Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past. And you will remember who is king."

"How fortunate Maric did not live to see his son ready to hand Ferelden over the country to those who enslaved us for a century." Loghain said as he returned the glare.

"Then our current forces will have to suffice. Won't they?" Cailan then turned to Duncan. "Duncan, are your men ready for battle?"

He nodded. "They are, your Majesty."

"And I see by the armor that Everil has officially joined your ranks." Cailan said, giving her a gentle smile. "Congratulations. I'm sure your father would be proud."

Everil bowed her head lightly. "Thank you, your Majesty."

"Every Grey Warden is needed now. You should be honored." His smile widened. "And who knows? Perhaps after tonight children will be reading about you in the history books."

"I heard the king loves those kinds of stories." She replied with a small smile of her own.

He chuckled. "Yes. Perhaps they will read about me too."

"Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing, Cailan." Loghain interjected irritably. "We must attend to reality."

"Fine. Speak your strategy." Cailan said with an annoyed look, leaning over the map.

"Your forces will draw in the darkspawn from the front and into the gorge, where they will be forced to funnel in." Loghain ran a finger from one part of the map to the other. "Then you will alert the tower to light the signal for my men to-"

"Flank them. I remember." Cailan looked at the drawing of the tower on the map. "Who shall light the signal?"

"I have a few men stationed there. It is not a dangerous task, but it is vital." Loghain straightened up, regarding the king.

Cailan looked up from the map to the Grey Wardens standing before him. He glanced over at Alistair and Everil. "Then we need our best up there. Send Alistair and Lady Everil to get it done."

"What?" Alistair spoke out before he could stop himself.

"Alistair." Duncan warned.

He slammed his mouth shut, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"We won't be in the battle?" Everil voiced his question.

Duncan let out a small sigh.

Cailan gave her a smile. "The entire strategy depends on that signal. Don't worry. There will be glory for everyone."

"You rely too much on these Grey Wardens, Cailan. Is that truly wise?" Loghain commented dryly.

"Enough of your conspiracy theories, Loghain." The king gave the man an irritated look. "Grey Wardens battle the Blight no matter where they're from. And I happen to know Alistair and Everil are more than fully capable of handling such a task."

Everil glanced to Loghain, then bowed her head to the king. "We will do our best, your Majesty."

"Good! It is settled then. We have a plan." Cailan said, a childish smile spreading upon his lips. "I can't wait for that moment... The king of Ferelden, riding along side the fabled a Grey Wardens to stem the tide of evil. Glorious!"

With the meeting over, the three Wardens gathered by the bon fire at the wedge of their camp to discuss the details of their task.

"You heard the king. You two will light the beacon and alert Teyrn Loghain's forces to charge. We will signal you from the battle field when the time is right." Duncan said as he gazed upon the two young Wardens before him.

"I still can't believe I won't be in the battle." Alistair uttered, looking up at Duncan with disappointment.

"The king has placed a great responsibility in your hands. I also believe in you both."

"Just not enough to let us be in the fight with you." Alistair quietly said.

"I agree with Alistair. We should be fighting alongside you. We could make a difference." Everil added firmly.

"That is not your decision to make." Duncan responded sternly. "If the king says the Wardens are needed to light the beacon, then the Grey Wardens will be there."

Alistair stubbornly folded his arms. "Just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn or no."

Everil smiled up at him, the mental pictures playing in her head. "I think I would like to see that."

He turned his head to gaze down at her, giving a playful smile. "For you, maybe. But it has to be a pretty dress."

She chuckled.

Duncan let out a sigh at the two. "At any rate, the fight is about to start and I must go join the others. Remember, I don't want any heroics from either of you. Do as you're told and wait until the fight is over. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ser." The two said in unison.

"Duncan... May the Maker watch over you." Alistair uttered.

"May the Maker watch over us all." Duncan nodded firmly, then turned to leave.

It wasn't long before war cries and the clash of metal filled the old fortress while the two of them made their way towards the overpass. The light of torches and the glittering of iron could be seen below, as the king's armies clashed against the darkspawn. Alistair and Everil were forced to a stop before crossing the bridge, as a great ball of fire exploded upon one of the soldiers ahead, taking out both him and his catapult he had been using.

The two hesitated, while soldiers behind them rushed in, taking the place of the dead. More fireballs were fired then, hitting one of the towers on the other side of the gorge and destroying part of it with the force.

Everil swallowed and then steeled herself, shouting over the sounds of battle at her companion. "Come on!"

She ran, Alistair and Magnus following closely as they attempted to cross the bridge, stepping around the charred corpses as they went. They passed by more soldiers as they fired their catapults at the enemies below, and she willed herself not to stop to look at the cheer amount of darkspawn swarming the field.

Suddenly she felt Alistair pull on her arm just as a fireball exploded before her, barely missing her as the shockwave sent them both flying back. With little time to recover, he pushed himself up, grabbing her wrist and hoisting her up to then pull her with him as they continued to run.

Everil let him lead, everything happening too fast for her to protest. She saw another ball coming down, and this time it was her turn to pull on him, halting him as it hit the bridge. They avoided the explosion this time and they ran the rest of the way, leaving the burning soldiers behind.

As soon as they made it across, Alistair let go of her and they both jogged towards a set of stairs, while a soldier and a mage ran down to meet them.

"G-Grey Wardens! The tower is under attack!" The mage said, panicking.

"What do you mean, man!? Under attack by who!?" Alistair shouted over the sounds of battle.

"Darkspawn! They came from the ground in the lower levels. Everyone inside is dead!" The soldier replied, an armored finger pointed in the tower's direction.

"Blast it..." Everil muttered under her breath. If the tower was taken, then the signal was compromised.

"We have to light the beacon ourselves." Alistair told her, his eyes unwavering.

They had no other choice.

"Then that's what we shall do." She said firmly before turning to the men before them. "We need you to come with us. Let's go."

They ran up the steps, the soldier and mage behind them.

Darkspawn stood at every corner, murdering the soldiers surrounding the tower. The group of four and the hound had to fight their way through to the entrance before Everil burst in, pushing the door open hard enough for it to hit the wall. Scattered bodies and bloody corridors greeted them, but they didn't have much time to take in the sight. For who knew how long it would take them to reach the top, and they had already wasted time outside.

They made their through the halls, as genlocks and hurlocks blocked their path. The two Wardens easily cut through them, while their other companions helped take down the ones trying to attack them from behind. Soon they reached a set of stairs leading up to the second level of the tower.

"We only killed stragglers." Alistair said as they paused at the bottom of the stairs. "There are larger groups waiting for us upstairs."

"You can feel them?" She inquired quietly.

"Yes."

She gave him a puzzled look. "I can't…"

"You won't right away. It takes time." He walked towards the double doors. "Let's just be careful. We don't want to be surrounded."

They stepped into the next room, seeing more bodies littering the ground. Limbs and torsos hung from the walls, making her stomach twist.

" _This is worse than the Korkari Wilds..."_

Alistair walked towards the center of the room, a disgusted look upon his face as he took in the grizzly scene before him. "I don't understand. There wasn't supposed to be any resistance here!"

"Were you not complaining you wouldn't get to fight?" She offered him a half smile.

He gave her a small grin of his own. "Hey, you're right! I guess there is a silver lining here after all." His smile then faded. "At any rate, we should hurry. Loghain will be waiting for that signal and the king will need his men in the fight."

By the time they reached the last floor they were covered with blood, breathing heavily from exertion. Everil cut down the last of the genlocks, watching it fall while attempting to wipe blood from her chin, smearing it.

A loud roar suddenly echoed through the room, making the group turn their heads towards the next door ahead.

"By the Maker… what was that!?" The soldier took a step back, frightened by the bestial sound.

Everil silently agreed, but they were close. They had to follow through and quickly. Determination settled upon her eyes, and she began walking up the steps, turning to look down at her companions.

"Everyone down there is depending on us." She said firmly. "Let's get this done and make your comrades' sacrifices count for something!"

She and Alistair led them in, closing the doors behind them. The wise chamber was dark, but they immediately knew something was inside, a putrid smell reaching their nostrils. They slowly advanced, taking tentative steps as they looked around, the heavy breathing of whatever was inside filling the silence of the room. Trails of blood led then further in, and just as the two Wardens reached the center of the room, a loud growl shook them to the core.

They all froze as a large, horned monster, rushed out of the shadows, slamming the mage to the ground and crushing his body before taking hold of the soldier. The man screamed in agony, crushed under the tight grip of the monster.

"Maker..." Everil breathed as it brought the man up to its mouth, her eyes widening in horror as it bit off his head.

The massive creature growled again, carelessly dropping the still convulsing body to the ground and setting its sights on them.

"An ogre..." Alistair uttered, inwardly cursing their rotten luck. Grey Wardens often fought these monsters in teams, as they were too dangerous and powerful for a single Warden to face on their own. And thanks to their brief time in the order, the two of them barely counted as one.

The ogre moved towards them, blocking their access to the hearth and the beacon as they stepped back. Everil scowled, they didn't have time to wear it down. They had to end it quickly. She looked their enemy over as it edged closer to them, noticing the top-heavy build.

If they could take out one of its legs...

"We should attack low." She spoke, glancing towards Alistair. "It has to carry a lot of weight on those legs. If one of us can bring him down to a knee, the other can take the head."

"That sounds like a good plan to me." Alistair replied with a nod.

It bull-rushed them then, its mighty horns aimed at them. Everil and Alistair split up, the monster barely missing them.

Alistair and Magnus ran towards it then, quickly engaging it before it could try to rush then again. Her hound bit at its calves, his strong jaws ripping out flesh as the beast attempted to swat him away.

Alistair sliced at its thighs, his blade cutting deep as blood sprayed the ground. Seeing the creature's pull back its arm, he ducked, dodging the hit. Everil joined them, slashing at its knees as it roared.

She felt as if they were flies trying to take down a giant, as the ogre continued to move effortlessly despite the many wounds now covering its legs.

Alistair stabbed his sword into its thigh, further angering the monster. It reaches down and this time Alistair was too slow to dodge. It took hold of him, forcing a cry out of him as his ribs strained under the pressure of it vise-like grip. He gritted his teeth, struggling in its massive hand, unable to free his sword arm as he felt himself being lifted off the ground.

"Alistair!" Everil called out, her eyes wide as she watched the creature slowly bring him up to its mouth. Without thinking she sheathed her weapons, the bow she had stolen from the genlock in the Wilds sliding off her shoulder.

She took aim. "Let him go you bastard!"

Just as the ogre opened its maws an arrow found its eye, burying itself deep into its skull, forcing it to drop the Warden.

Alistair fell on his back with a grunt as the creature howled in pain, its hands covering its face, bleeding into them. It then cast an angry snarl upon her and rushed towards her in rage.

She quickly rolled to the side, avoiding a giant punch from the beast. It continued like a mad bull, punching at the air as it stalked after her.

Everil ducked, but as it swung one arm, it brought down the other, hitting her hip and sending her tumbling over the hard floor. It took her a minute to realize she had stopped rolling and she lifted her head, groaning with her hand over her thigh.

"Ahh that's going to leave a bad bruise..."

She heard it growl again, her head snapping in its direction as its hideous face came into her line of vision.

"Maker's breath...!" She breathed fearfully, trying to move away as it reached down to her with its outstretched hand.

Alistair swiftly stepped between them, swinging his sword up and slicing off the ogre's fingers. It howled in agony, holding on to its wrist as blood sprayed from the open stubs. It moved away, cradling the limb to its chest.

She looked up as Alistair gently grabbed her by the arm, helping her to her feet.

"Bastard's the grabby type, huh?" He said with a humorless smile.

She bit back the pain as she put her weight on the leg. "It certainly seems that way."

"Thank you for saving me back there. That was… way too close for comfort." He muttered, shivering involuntarily at the prospect of losing his head to the beast.

"Well we're even now." She smirked, dropping her now broken bow and drawing her blades. "I have an idea. Shall we put it out of its misery?"

He nodded firmly. "Let's do it."

Everil turned to face the ogre and quickly kicked herself into motion, towards it beast. It saw her coming, growling at the challenge as it charged, its horns pointed at her. She picked up speed, sprinting as it got closer.

It was mere steps from her when she slid low on the ground, her body drifting over the stone and between its massive legs. She swiftly used her arm to stop herself and shifted to the back of the monster. It didn't have time to turn around as she shot forward with her sword and dagger at the ready, launching herself at one leg and burying her weapons in the back of its knee. It growled out in pain as she cut through its kneecap, making its leg buckle and kneel.

"Now!" She cried out, holding on to her blades as the ogre struggled.

Alistair was already moving, his sword in hand as he put away his shield. He jumped, using its leg to propel himself up towards its head. He felt his blade sink into its throat, piercing the ogre's windpipe as he watched it gurgled up blood.

It stumbled back as Everil quickly removed her weapons and jumped out of the way while Alistair held on with his knees to the monster's chest as it fell. The ogre hit the ground with an earth-shaking slam, its arms still trying reach up to the human upon it.

Alistair then pulled out his sword only to bring it down with both hands, stabbing through the monster's open maw. The ogre released another gurgling growl as blood poured out from its mouth, and the knight then twisted his blade once, causing the beast to finally stop moving.

Without wasting more time, he slid off the dead monster and quickly made for the beacon. Everil and her hound followed him as she put away her blades.

He lit it and the flames shot up to like a spire, lighting the night sky. Panting for breath, the two Wardens gazed up at the blaze, Alistair still on a knee by the chimney.

"We did it." She uttered with a small smile, relief feeling her chest.

"Yes, we did." He said, turning his head to look up at her. "We work well together, don't we?"

"I think we do..." Everil's blue eyes met his, her smile broadening while she offered him a hand.

As he was about to take her hand the familiar, evil voices flooded his head, his eyes growing wide when suddenly an arrow pierced out through her chest.

"Huh…?" She looked down at it, her fingers reaching up to the touch the tip. Then another arrow hit her back, causing her to stumble towards him.

Alistair quickly stood, pulling her to him and lifting his shield with barely enough time to protect them from the next wave of arrows. But one of them managed to get his leg, making him grit his teeth in pain. He took her arm and threw it over his shoulders, helping her stand while cursing under his breath as more darkspawn poured in through their only exit, charging with weapons at the ready.

Magnus quickly pounced and took out one of them. Alistair put away his shield, drawing his blade to fend off several others, his other arm keeping his companion on her feet. He grunted as one hurlock broke through his block, slicing at his side and sending blood splattering over the ground. He hit it across the face with the pummel of his sword, throwing it off balance before cutting off its head with another swift swing.

The mabari stood weakly between them and the enemy, attempting to protect his mistress while carrying injuries of his own.

Everil dizzily glanced up at Alistair as her blood soaked her back and slid down her legs. She swallowed, the taste of copper filling her mouth as she weakly reached back and drew her sword. She swung it once, taking out a genlock that got too close to them.

There was nothing she could tell him. They were going to die.

Alistair felt her lean more heavily on him, making him turn his gaze to her. She was barely conscious as she struggled to breathe, and yet she held a defiant look in her eyes.

His hold on her waist tightened in response, drawing her closer to him as they were cornered against the wall. They watched as increasing number of darkspawn began closing in, cackling in mirth as if already enjoying their impending suffering.

A loud burst of wind suddenly broke in, taking out the creatures as glass flew everywhere in the chamber. A dragon emerged from one of the broken windows, red scales shimmering as it landed, swinging its massive tail at the remaining monsters.

The two Wardens stared in shock as flames shot out of its mouth, torching the remaining darkspawn and turning them into ashes. It then turned its head, piercing amber eyes focusing on the two as they struggled to stand.

It was then that Everil felt her consciousness give in, those eyes boring into her mind as darkness claimed her.

A scream made Alistair's eyes snap open as he sat up with a start, the wound on his side protesting in response. He moaned weakly as his hand went to his injured side, feeling the cloth of the cloth now covering the wound. Alistair gazed down at himself, seeing he was now shirtless with more bandages covering most of his torso. He then spotted the bandage wrapped tightly around his thigh, and he found himself thankful that whoever healed him had allowed him to keep both his trousers and his dignity

Despite the pounding headache, the memories of what happened slowly dawned upon him, leaving him wondering if perhaps he had awakened from a terrible nightmare. Confused, he looked around the dark clearing, a campfire burning beside him.

" _Where am I?"_

He spotted the old hut nearby, and he immediately knew exactly where he was. A whine drew his attention to the door, by which a bandaged up dog sat with his ears flat upon its head.

In that moment the image of chocolate locks and clear blue eyes crossed his mind, followed by her bloodied chest as arrows pierced through. His worried eyes searched the camp again, but he saw no one else around.

"Everil?" He called quietly as he pushed himself up, wincing when he took a step towards the woods.

Then another scream pierced the night, coming from within the hut.

"Everil!" He whipped around despite his injuries, bursting through the door.

"Ah you have awakened. Good." The old woman gave him a quick glance over her shoulder before returning to her task, a whimper reaching his ears.

"What are you doing to her!?" He demanded, stalking towards them when the old woman turned and flung a broken arrow at his feet, stopping him in his tracks.

"Saving her life!" The old witch barked, pinning him with an irritated look.

His eyes trailed up from the arrow to Everil, taking in the poor condition she was in.

She was barely clinging to consciousness, her dark hair sticking to her sweat-streaked cheeks as blood soaked her armor.

"Did you know that simply plucking an arrow from one's body causes more harm than good? It damages nerves and muscle, causing heavier bleeding. Oftentimes even death." The old woman turned her back to him, taking hold of the last arrow still stuck to Everil's back. "One must instead thrust it all the way through—"

She shoved it in, the heart-wrenching scream that escaped Everil making him wince in response.

"—and hope not to tear through any vital organs."

Alistair took a step in an attempt to help, only to be stopped by a hand gesture from the witch. He heard a snap as she broke the arrow, drawing another whimper from his agonizing companion. Then a sickening wet noise followed as the offending object was removed and discarded.

"How…how is she?" He uttered as he cast concerned eyes upon her, hands closed into fists at his helplessness.

"An arrow pierced through one of her lungs, but fortunately for your friend, I know a thing or two about healing magic. She will live." She took a small bowl from the rackety nightstand by the bed, handing it over to Morrigan. "Give her this and smear some on the wounds. After that—"

"Bandages. Yes, Mother. I heard you all three times you lectured me while patching up the other one." Morrigan muttered irritably.

The old woman shook her head. "Well I figured you were deaf, considering I had to fix them twice over because you can't tie a simple knot."

Alistair ignored their banter, his hand coming up to rest over his bandaged middle. Everything seemed to have happened so fast. First the king sends them on an errand, a task that wasn't even supposed to involve fighting. Then everything goes south in a blink of an eye, with them ending up having to fight for their lives at the top of the tower.

He hoped at least it was all worth it, that they had lit the signal in time.

The thought immediately reminded him of Duncan.

"What of the others? The king… and the Grey Wardens?" He gave the old woman a questioning look, a hint of urgency painting his voice.

She turned her eerie yellow eyes towards him, her uncharacteristic pause telling him something was wrong. She wiped her bloody hands on her skirt and began walking to the door, motioning for him to follow. "Come, boy. There is something I must tell you."

He swallowed as his chest tightened with anxiety at her words. He followed the witch with his eyes as she walked out, and then cranked his head towards Everil's now unconscious form.

He hesitated, unwilling to leave his partner alone.

"You should go with Mother." Morrigan told him as she adjusted the sleeping woman, making her lean forward as her fingers worked on the straps of her armor. "Unless you wish to remain and see your ailing companion's naked body. To each their own."

"Of-of course not! I... I would never…ugh." He rubbed the back of his head in frustration, then turned around. "I'll just be outside."

Morrigan watched in mild amusement as he stumbled out the door, slamming it behind him. She shook her head with a hopeless sigh, looking down at the motionless woman upon her bed.

"I actually feel sorry for you..."

He came out to see the old woman sitting upon a rocking chair by the fire, bringing a pipe up to her cracked lips as he cautiously stepped closer.

With a snap of her fingers she summoned a small flame within the pipe, lighting it with a few puffs as she watched him approach. She slowly exhaled smoke, leaning back as she motioned to an old chair across from her.

"Sit."

He did as he was told, wincing slightly as every movement brought pain to his body. Alistair felt a chill under her piercing yellow eyes, the vague image of the dragon from the tower superimposing upon the wrinkled woman's features.

He wanted to know what she was, but he was almost too afraid to ask.

"Your order, the king and his armies..." She began slowly, puffing out another cloud of smoke. "They perished against the darkspawn."

Her words hit him like a bucket of cold water, echoing in his ears as his world suddenly stopped. "W-what?"

"You heard me." She said coolly with her gaze focused upon the campfire, casually breathing out more smoke while slowly rocking her chair back and forth. "They were massacred. Every one of them."

"N-No...that's not true! We lit the beacon!" Alistair gave her a horrified look, a million questions rushing through his head, making him dizzy as he clung desperately to denial. "Loghain's soldiers surely would have—"

"This Loghain ignored your signal and fled the field, taking his men with him. No one came to help in the fight."

"No!" He shot up to his feet, frantically searching the area. "Where's my sword!? They need me!"

"Sit down, boy. There's nothing you can do for them now." She drew in another puff of smoke, her eyes following him as he paced around like a caged animal.

"They can't be dead... Duncan can't be dead! I… I have to go help them!" He made for the edge of the woods, when suddenly several tree branches shot out from the darkness. They took hold of his arms and legs, yanking him off the ground and drawing a startled cry out of him.

She stood from her chair, calmly walking over to him as the creaking branches lowered him to her. She puffed smoke onto his face, throwing him into a coughing fit.

"You will do no such thing." She uttered darkly as he squirmed. "I went through a great deal of trouble to save your sorry behind, young man. Do not take my efforts for granted by rushing to your death like a fool."

Any movement he made just tightened her hold on him, stressing his limbs to the breaking point.

"Who are you…?" He breathed out hoarsely, angrily fighting back the bitter tears currently threatening to spill from his eyes.

"The better question here is: Who. Are. you?" Her eyes pierced through him, chilling him to the core. "You call yourself a Grey Warden, yet it has not dawned upon you that perhaps you and that girl are now Ferelden's only hope against the Blight."

She watched in mild fascination as his eyes slowly grew wide, the weight of her words visibly settling upon him. The witch crossed an arm, resting an elbow over it while smugly bringing the pipe back up to her lips. "Now that you have seen the situation you're in… tell me… What will you do?"

"I… don't know…" He uttered with uncertainty. "Duncan…was our leader. Without him…"

"Leaders must rise up, more so now in these desperate times." She scowled in disgust at the sight of his anguished expression. "But I suppose it remains to be seen whether or not you two have what it takes to replace him."

Silence filled the air then, safe for the occasional crackle of the fire. The witch reached up, her long, bony fingers roughly taking hold of his jaw. She forced him towards her and tilted her head, inspecting his features as if he were some strange creature. He stubbornly tried to turn his hazel-brown eyes away from hers, too worn out to physically struggle against her.

A dark, deep chuckle left her lips at what she found. "Oh but the resemblance is uncanny! Even that miserable look upon your eyes is the same as his." She laughed again. "It seems it is as they say: The apple never falls far from the tree."

He had stopped listening a while ago, too engrossed in his own grief to give a damn.

Seeing this, she let go, turning her back to him while chanting in a foreign tongue, commanding the trees to set him down upon his feet.

Alistair sank to the ground, covering his eyes and bearing his teeth as tears rolled freely down his face.

Magnus approached him, nuzzling his head with a gentle whine. But he remained motionless, sobbing quietly with only the hound to keep him company.

"How is she?"

"Her wounds are healing well. 'Tis certain she is more resilient than she appears."

"Can I sit here?"

"Do as you wish. I care not. I shall return in a moment."

The sound of a door closing was then heard, as someone's footsteps grew closer.

Everil recognized the voices, their conversation stirring her consciousness. She felt the pain on her back and the dryness of her throat, as the memories of the battle slowly flooded into her brain. She whimpered, the pounding headache making her wish she had stayed asleep.

"Everil?"

"Mm...?" She opened her eyes slowly, her face scrunching up in discomfort as the man's features gradually came into focus. "A…Alistair?"

He released a breath of relief. "Thank the Maker."

She sat up slowly, groaning as the lingering pain spread through her body. Her head turned in every direction, anxiously taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. "Where are we? How long was I out?"

"A day. We're in the Wilds... Morrigan and her mother saved our lives."

She frowned, noticing they were missing one more party member. "Where's my hound?"

He gave her half smile. "Outside waiting for you."

She inspected herself. Her armor was gone, replaced by a worn nightgown. She craned her head towards him. He sat upon a wooden box and wore what looked to be his under tunic, bandages visible between his neck and shoulder.

"Are you all right?" She voiced worriedly.

"Heh… I should be the one asking you that."

A deep frown creased her forehead. "Was it that bad?"

"Yes… I was afraid you'd die on me."

In a different scenario she may have been flattered by his concern for her, but the tone of his voice and the haunted look in his eyes told her there was more to it.

She smiled weakly. "Well I'm awake now. Thanks for worrying about me."

He responded with a nod, his eyes down cast.

Yes. Something was wrong, and after what they had been through up to this point, she was almost afraid to ask. He didn't seem too eager to tell her either.

"What happened?" She voiced hesitantly. "Did we win the battle?"

He let out a drawn out breath, shaking his head as he prepared himself to speak. But he only managed a few words. "No… everyone... they..."

Shock dawned upon her as the few words he uttered quickly fell into place. "But the signal..."

"Loghain never charged. The king, his soldiers and the other Wardens were overwhelmed and left to die." Alistair said quickly, his voice heavy with a mixture of grief and anger. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he tightly clasped his hands together. "We… We're the only Grey Wardens left."

Everil slowly turned her gaze down at her hands, gripping the blanket tightly between her fingers. It all sounded surreal to her.

That last battle was meant to end it all.

King Cailan, a kind man her family had served loyally, and someone she had considered a friend, was now gone. All those soldiers—many of them with families back home—now lay dead after attempting to protect their nation.

And the Grey Wardens...

She quickly turned to Alistair, whose eyes remained downcast and his shoulders slumped as if the weight of it all pressed down upon him.

Everil knew that look. She still felt it after having lost everything to Howe.

Her relationship with Duncan had been brief, and she didn't have the opportunity to meet the other Wardens. But she knew by the way Alistair had spoken of them that they had been like family to him.

A family killed by betrayal, much like her own.

She reached out, resting a gentle hand upon his forearm. "I'm sorry, Alistair..."

Her soft words drew his anguished gaze up to her, as he placed a hand upon hers, giving it squeeze.

"Ah, you have awakened!"

They both turned startled looks towards the woman at the door.

Morrigan walked towards the pair, stopping by the foot of the bed before folding her arms over her chest. "Mother shall be pleased."

Everil gave her a small smile. "Thank you for everything, Morrigan."

"Uhm…you are welcome." Morrigan said awkwardly. "Although Mother did most of the work. I am no healer."

"I see… then I should go thank her, as well."

"That would be wise." She responded dryly.

Everil pushed the covers off her, swinging her bruised legs over the edge of the bed. She winced as she stood, her hand flying to her arm as burning pain spread through her chest, making her hunch over.

Alistair rose, his hand on her shoulder as he gazed worriedly at her. "Are you sure you're well enough to move around? Maybe we should wait a little longer."

She stubbornly straightened herself. "Well or not, we don't have time to sit around anymore. You told me before… without an army to hold them back the darkspawn will spread further north. We have to find a way to stop the Blight."

She then turned to Morrigan. "Where's my armor?"

"Over by the window." She responded, pointing with her finger.

Alistair took a step back, making room for her to walk around him while following her with his eyes. Unlike him, the news didn't throw her into an emotional stupor, instead she pushed through with renewed strength. It was then that he realized she was better suited to take on their impossible task, and that he would be the one to follow.

He reached up to rub the back of his neck as he headed for the door. "I'll be waiting outside."

Morrigan watched the interaction between the two before he left the hut, lifting a curious brow.

Everil stripped, ignoring the other woman's presence. She slid on her leather slacks and boots, then the inside of her armor.

"Are you not the junior member of the order?"

"I am. What of it?" Everil shot her a questioning glance over her shoulder before throwing on her armor.

"I merely find it curious that you seem to be the one making the decisions."

She tied a strap, ignoring the ache the pressure put upon her body. "Alistair and I are the only ones left. I don't think rank has any meaning right now."

With a shrug, Morrigan made towards the kitchen, leaving the other woman to her task.

When she emerged from the hut the first one to greet her was her hound, his short tail wagging uncontrollably. She noticed the bandages around his middle, but they didn't seem to face him.

She smiled at him, reaching down to scratch the back of his ear. "Hi boy. I'm glad you're all right."

He whined up at her, nuzzling her open palm. Then he barked, drawing a chuckle from its mistress. "Yes, yes. I know. I'm sorry I worried you."

"About time to woke up." The old woman cackled, her arms crossed as she stood by the pond near the hut. "Both these fellows looked so depressed it was pathetic to watch."

Alistair was also standing nearby, now fully geared. Everil walked up to them, her hound in toe.

"You have my gratitude for saving our lives." She told the witch, bowing her head in a polite gesture.

"My... Always so civil. You are welcome, though I did not do it out of the kindness of my heart." She replied with a smirk upon her face. "I'm sure your fellow Warden here has already informed you of what happened."

"He has." Everil replied quietly. "But before we discuss what's next... I don't think you ever told us your name."

"Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose that will do."

"Flemeth?" Alistair breathed as he gave the old woman a surprised look. "From the legends? Daveth was right…you're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?"

Felmeth shot him a dirty look. "What's that supposed to mean? I know a little magic and it has served you both well."

"If you're really Flemeth, then that means you must be very old and powerful." Everil uttered in mild fascination.

"Power and age are relative. It depends on whom you ask. Compared to you two? Yes, on both accounts." Flemeth tilted her chin up. "But it is not I you should be concerned with. The real threat lies at the heart of the Blight itself."

"The archdemon." Alistair voiced, his eyes hardening.

"Loghain is a possible threat now too… I still don't understand what he was hoping to gain by leaving the king for dead." Everil crossed her arms over her chest.

"The throne? He's the queen's father." Alistair replied. "Still… I don't see how he would get away with murder."

"You speak as if he were the first king to gain his throne that way. Grow up, boy." Flemeth said.

Alistair scowled. "If Arl Eamon found out what he's done, he would never stand for it. The Landsmeet would never stand for it. There would be civil war!"

Everil's gave him a curious look. "Arl Eamon? The arl of Redcliffe?"

"Yes. I know him. He's a good man, respected in the Landsmeet." An idea then dawned upon him. "Of course! We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!"

"Would he really believe us over Teyrn Loghain?"

"I'm sure he would. And he wasn't at Ostagar so he still has all his soldiers. He's also Cailan's uncle, so he will have a personal motivation in bringing Loghain to justice for what he did." He scratched the back of his head. "Still…there's no way he can defeat the Blight on his own. We'll need more help."

She raised a brow. "What about the treaties Flemeth gave us?"

"Now there's a smart lad." Flemeth said with an amused smile.

"That's right! The Grey Warden treaties!" Alistair said in realization. "We can use the scrolls to demand help from the Dwarves, Elves and the Circle of Magi. They're obligated to help us during a Blight!"

Flemeth cackled at the two. "I may be old, but this Arl Eamon, Dwarves, Elves, and Mages…this sounds like an army to me."

Alistair turned tentative eyes towards her. "So you think we can do this? Go to all these people and build an army?"

She was a little surprised at his question. Even though she had read every possible book about them, she still had limited knowledge of how Wardens truly worked. And so far, it seemed that without him she would have been relatively lost.

Yet despite having just now put their plan together himself, he didn't seem to notice.

She grinned despite it all, finding his obliviousness slightly endearing. "And why not? Is that not what Grey Wardens do?"

He felt renewed motivation at her encouraging attitude. Just hours ago he had been desperate, feeling as if he were being forced to single handedly carry the weight of the world upon his shoulders. Now he felt as if he could take it on, knowing that he wasn't going through it alone.

"Well now that you two know what to do, there is still one more thing I can offer you before you go." Flemeth told them with a stern look.

"Mother dear, the stew is bubbling." As if on queue, Morrigan walked up to the group. "Shall we have two guests for supper? Or none?"

"The Wardens will take some for the road. And you will be leaving with them."

"Such a shame- what!?" Morrigan gave her Mother a stunned look.

"You heard me… last I checked you had ears." Flemeth laughed.

"But Mother…this is not how I –"

"I think that's a great idea." Everil nodded her head towards her. If they were setting out on their own, they might as well pick up extra hands. That, and by the way the stew smelled from where they stood, she imaged the woman's food would most definitely be better than Alistair's.

"Have I no say in this?" Morrigan glared at the two.

Flemeth's firm gaze met hers. "They need you Morrigan. Alone these two must unite Ferelden against the Blight. Without you they will surely fail, and all will be destroyed by the Blight. Even I."

"I… understand…" Morrigan said with a worried frown.

"Besides…you've been itching to get out of the wilds for years now. Now's your chance." She then turned sharp eyes to the other two. "And you, Grey Wardens. I give you that wish I value above all else in this world. I do this because you _must_ succeed. Do not make me regret this decision."

Everil nodded. "She won't come to harm with us."

"Not to look a gift horse in the mouth... But wouldn't that add to our problems?" Alistair frowned worriedly. "Outside of the Wilds she's an apostate."

Flemeth gave him the evil eye, making both Wardens tense on their feet. "If you don't want help from us illegal mages, young man, then perhaps I should have left you in that tower."

Alistair swallowed. "Point. Taken."

Morrigan let out a pitiful sigh. "Allow me to get my things, if you please."

Upon saying their goodbyes, they were on their way. Morrigan had suggested they head north to the nearest village, Lothering, in order to replenish any supplies needed. Thus she led the way through the wilds, guiding them out of the traitorous wilderness. The trip was quiet for the most part, with each traveler immersed in his or her own thoughts.

Alistair watched Everil from behind, the silence allowing him to listen to her elaborate breathing, despite her efforts to hide her discomfort. She had gotten hurt worse than he in that tower, and it would probably take some time for her to fully heal. Still by what he had seen thus far, she was obviously the hardheaded type. Even if he were to suggest taking a break for her sake, she would probably brush him off and keep walking.

Her commitment to their cause was admirable, especially when considering she had just joined their order. That unwavering willingness to fulfill her duty made him see the other reason why Duncan was so determined to recruit her.

Alistair felt his chest tighten at the thought of the man he had once looked up to like a father. He half expected to see him emerge from the woods, covered in darkspawn blood, telling them everything was fine. That the others were waiting for them at camp. He swallowed the knot in his throat, his hands closing into fists.

He probably would never be able to find his body. By now the darkspawn had probably tore it to pieces, scattering it a cross Ostagar as both a warning and a promise to those who dare cross their path. But although their evil sickened him, someone else was the focus of his ire.

Alistair had never hated anyone before, but Loghain had earned being the first. If the desire to stop the Blight didn't push him through the worst of times, the thought of his blade running the man through surely would. If only he could see him face to face now, the perhaps killing him would take away all the anger and pain currently threatening to suffocate him.

Miles from the village night fell upon them. They were far enough from the Korcari Wilds to be relatively safe from darkspawn, but they were still miles away from Lothering. Her body told her rest was necessary, and she imagines perhaps Alistair and her hound needed the same. Thus it was decided they would spend the night in the wilderness.

After poking at the coals in their campfire, Everil rose, turning towards her companions. "Anyone else hungry?"

Her hound's head perked up and he let out a bark. Morrigan waved dismissively from her spot by the fire, her hands stashing herbs into her bag.

She glanced towards Alistair, whose saddened eyes were focused on the flickering flames.

"Alistair?"

He didn't answer, seemingly lost in thought. He hadn't spoken since they left Flemeth's hut, but she didn't force it. She knew exactly how he felt.

Morrigan glanced up at him with an irritated look. "Your companion asked you a question."

He let out a frustrated breath and stood, ignoring their confused looks as he walked towards the woods.

"Such a child…" Morrigan muttered, shifting her gaze up to the other Warden. "Does he always act this way? If so, then I question what your order saw in him."

"He just needs some time. He did just lose all his friends." Everil sighed, folding her arms. "Care to join me in the hunt then? I might as well get us something to eat anyway, and you know these woods far better than I."

"If I must." She replied, rising to her feet and walking past her. "Though I have only crossed these parts twice."

They went in the opposite direction from Alistair, followed by the hound as he sniffed the ground. Everil glanced at the strange woman beside her, her pale skin almost glowing under the light of the moon as it filtered down through the canopy. She was a mage, an apostate who was raised outside of the Circle's walls and the daughter of a fabled witch. But although she had an unnatural aura, she seemed perfectly human. She only wondered how much of that was true, or if perhaps this girl was not actually Flemeth's flesh and blood.

"So you have never actually travelled far from home?" Everil asked quietly.

Morrigan gave her a brief look. "I left it on occasion, but only as far as Lotherin. I did intend to travel someday… but I suppose 'tis always hard to leave one's home."

"It is..." She quietly agreed. "So this is truly what you wanted? Your mother was not forcing this upon you?"

"What I wanted was… to see mountains. To witness the ocean and step into its waters." Morrigan gazed up to the moon as they walked, speaking as if she were picturing the images in her head. "To see the wonders of a city without having to imagine it in my mind. So yes… I suppose this is what I wanted."

"I see…I'm glad you will at least have that chance." She let a corner of her lips go up. "Though it's a shame it's not under better circumstances."

Rustling ahead made them pause in their steps as a hare hopped out of the bushes. Magnus growled at it, only to be shushed by his mistress.

"Great… I don't have a bow." Everil uttered as she reached back to draw her weapon.

"I have something better." Morrigan whispered back with a smirk. "Just refrain from running away in fear, Warden."

Suddenly the witch's body began to glow, making her take a step back in surprise. Then her form shrunk in a blink of an eye, a hawk darting forth towards the defenseless hare. The animal squeaked as razor-sharp talons pierced its skin, then the bird twisted, breaking the other animal's neck in one swift motion.

The hawk's form then glowed once more, and in a split second, Morrigan replaced the bird, her hand holding the lifeless hare by the ears.

"Maker…" Was all Everil could say, her eyes wide.

The witch then approached her, handing her their meal with a wicked smile. "You may at least close your mouth while you stare."

"S-sorry… I did not expect for you to just suddenly… Was that magic?"

"Of course it is. What else did you think it was?" She said as she began to make her way back.

"I… I have never heard of such a thing." Everil uttered nervously.

"'Tis not unheard of in the remote corners of the world, despite what the zealots at the Circle of Magi would have you believe. Such magic is oft passed down as carefully guarded lore from generation to generation."

"I think such traditions should be preserved." Everil said, walking beside her. Although she knew nothing of magic she could relate with her words, considering how much history her family carried.

"Oh? You do not believe as the Chantry does?" Morrigan's brows went up in mild interest. "That I could be some abomination to be to the torch?"

"No. I think being able to turn into animals seems quite useful." Everil smiled up at her, lifting the hare for emphasis.

Her surprise was understandable. She herself was raised listening to the chantry's teachings about the dangers of magic and how it was once used to enslave others. Still, one evil person's misdeeds do not always reflect upon the rest.

Morrigan's lips lifted lightly. "My… that is a most practical answer. More so than any man has ever told me before. How refreshing."

"Pleased to hear it." Everil chuckled. "Though next time you turn into an animal perhaps you could give us a little more warning. I think I nearly died of a heart attack back there."

The witch's smile broadened. "I shall keep that in mind."

After walking few miles further they arrived to the outskirts of the village. A long highway built out of stone stretched across, used mostly by caravans and merchants for trade. As they walked through, Everil noticed a group of men standing ahead, dressed in rugged armor and splattered in blood.

She narrowed her eyes as they grew near, already expecting trouble.

"Ah more travelers!" One of the men said, standing from his spot upon a crate. He stepped towards her to stand before her, the others in his group gathering behind him and blocking their path.

"Wait boss…" Another spoke, giving their leader a hesitant look. "Look at their armor…these be Grey Wardens."

The leader turned his head, shrugging his shoulders. "So? What of it? The tax applies to everyone, Hog."

Everil crossed her arms, shooting the man a stern look. "What tax?"

"Oh! So the pretty one is the leader…" He grinned. "We're collecting coin to fix the highway. As you can see, it's in a quite the poor shape." He gestured to the boxes and wagons scattered about, along with the dead travelers to whom they once belonged.

"Fools…" Morrigan said as she folded her arms, sending the group a disgusted look. "They dare stand in our way? I say teach them a lesson."

Alistair quietly watched from behind, his hand resting upon the hilt of his sword.

"So you are tax collectors. Is that what you told the people lying there before you killed them?" Everil asked, a dangerous edge in her voice.

"They were already dead when we got here. The darkspawn got to 'em first. You should know, they're on their way here. The poor sods…" The leader replied with mock sympathy. "That's why we're collecting the money. To clean up their mess."

"As your friend said, we are Grey Wardens. I have seen with my very eyes the carnage darkspawn leave in their wake." She said, her irritation growing ten fold. "I shall give you one last chance to answer honestly-and keep in mind I have killed the very darkspawn I speak of before you answer- Did you kill those people?"

His men fidgeted uncomfortably behind him.

The leader swallowed under her piercing glare, lifting his chin in defiance. "Y-yes we did. What's it to you?"

Everil lashed out then, punching the man square in the jaw and sending him stumbling onto his rear. He spat out blood, a tooth shooting out and bouncing on the stone floor.

"You bitch!" One of them bit out, reaching for a dagger.

In one fluid motion Alistair drew his blade, pointing it at his throat. "I _really_ wouldn't do that if I were you."

The man lowered his hand slowly, gulping as the tip of the Warden's sword touched his Adam's apple.

"These people are fleeing from the Blight. They have enough to fear and have lost enough without bandits preying upon them." Everil uttered angrily, looking down at him as if he were nothing but dirt under her shoe. "Get up and get out of here. Leave everything you stole. If I ever see you around here again, I shall end you."

The man quickly stood, wiping the blood off his chin. "Fine…have it your way." He produced a pouch from under his leather armor, dropping it to the ground.

"But…boss!" One of the bandits spoke up.

"Shut up!" He snapped at them. "These are the same people that killed King Cailan!"

"Killed…King Cailan?" Everil echoed in disbelief.

"I didn't see it at first, but they fit the description." The leader said, rubbing his sore chin. He then turned to walk past the group. "Come on. Nothing here is worth losing my life to the likes of them."

As they left Everil walked up to the pouch of coin, dropping on a knee to pick it up. She then moved to inspect the corpses, her shoulders tense as she rummaged through their belongings. It didn't feel right taking what the bandits had killed these people for, but they had little choice. They needed coin.

"We should be careful in the village. I imagine that's where they heard that rumor." Alistair told them, sheathing his sword.

"Ah so you have finally decided to rejoin us." Morrigan smirked mockingly. "Falling on your blade in grief proved too much trouble, I take it?"

"Is my being upset so hard to understand?" He said as he glared at her in disbelief, finding her words both offensive and cruel. "Have you never lost someone important to you? Just what would you do if your mother died?"

"Before or after I stopped laughing?"

"Right… very creepy. Forget I asked."

Everil shook her head. "Let him be, Morrigan."

"But how can I?" She gestured towards him. "He's standing right there! With huge, sad eyes like those of a lamb on its way to slaughter."

He scowled. "Is this the part where we're shocked to discover how you've never had a friend your entire life?"

"I can be friendly when I desire. Alas, being more intelligent does not make it so." Morrigan met his gaze with an amused smile, unfazed by the annoyed look he was giving her.

"At any rate… I agree with Alistair." Everil said, trying to change the subject while handing her fellow Warden a bundle of cloth she had taken from one of the bodies. "We should cover our armor as a precaution and watch ourselves. We will purchase what we need today and leave first thing tomorrow."

"Good idea." He replied with a short nod, throwing on the cloak. And as they resumed their walk, Everil did the same.

She looked on towards the small houses in the distance. The village was indeed not far from the wilds. If people living nearby were fleeing this way, then perhaps her brother was amongst them.

She felt a small glimmer of hope at the thought.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter IV

Upon arriving to Lothering they witnessed the full extent of the situation in the south. Tents were spread over the farmlands of the town, along with wagons carrying the belongings of weary travelers. Some people huddled in groups, prying to the Maker for protection. Others were frantically patching up the wounded or purchasing goods from a nearby merchant. The templars walked the village in an effort to maintain order, heavily armored and armed. The depressing view definitely took away from what little scenery there was, the large windmills blending into the background.

Everil walked down the steps from the highway, her heart clenching at the sight of so many suffering.

"Ah there it is… Lothering. Pretty as a painting." Alistair spread his arms dramatically next to her, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"It seems the village already knows the darkspawn horde is approaching," Everil said quietly.

Alistair released a troubled sigh. "Yes, I would say they have just a few days left. Most of these people will likely keep moving north. The rest probably won't have enough coin to travel or be too stubborn to leave their lands behind."

They walked past the tents at the entrance, glancing around at the grim faces looking their way. The cool weather and cloudy skies didn't help lighten the mood, and the distant cries of children and the injured just made it worse. The town's chantry then came into view, its tall walls towering over the small buildings around it. More templars stood guard near it, and by the gates a priest attached pieces of paper to a board.

"They're still operating the chantry board?" Alistair chuckled in amusement. "Now that's dedication!"

Everil raised a brow. "What is it? Some sort of news board?"

"No. The chantry uses it to post errands they need help with. They pay well for them sometimes." Alitair approached it, taking a piece of paper. "Oh look! This one offers a reward for killing bandits at the other side of the village. Doesn't that sound like our holy calling?"

"I suppose killing darkspawn is not violent enough." She half-smiled and then took the paper from his hands. "Hm… but perhaps we can make things easier on these people if we help around a little."

"Wait. So we must not only defeat a Blight, but also solve every petty problem in this village?" Morrigan snatched the paper from her, looking down at it in dismay. "Whatever happened to 'let us get what we came for and go'?"

"Look at them, Morrigan." Everil gestured to the nearest camp. "Don't you think we should do something? Besides…we do need the coin."

"I agree on the coin part..." Morrigan muttered moodily. "Fine. I shall offer assistance, but not for them."

"Thank you." Everil reclaimed the piece of paper from the witch's pale fingers and stashed it in her pocket. Morrigan was definitely callous; oblivious to the way her words came across. She imagined her life in the wilds must have been rather lonely, with only her and her mother in the vast wilderness. She would have to keep that in mind.

"There is something else I wish to do while we're here," Everil said while taking the rest of the papers pinned to the board. "I have to look for my brother, Fergus. He served in Ostagar, but was not part of the king's main forces. If he survived, then I believe he may have made his way here too."

Alistair nodded. "It's possible."

"I do not believe so." Morrigan uttered dryly. "Mother told me in great detail how the darkspawn decimated your armies. Your brother is probably dead, just as all the other soldiers."

Everil's eyes widened at her bluntness.

"How very sensitive of you," Alistair said, shooting the witch yet another irritated look. "What will we find out about you next? That you're some... evil... thing that eats innocent little puppies? Because that wouldn't surprise me at this point."

Magnus whined, shrinking away at his comment.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "I am simply stating the obvious. Seeking a lost cause will only waste precious time."

Alistair was about to protest when Everil cut him off. "She's right."

They both turned to her.

"There are bigger things to take care of at the moment." Everil closed her hands into fists, looking up at them. "Now come on. Let's go clean up the village for coin."

Once they were done with the chantry's board, Everil split their earnings into three equal parts, then gave each of them a pouch of money. "This should be enough for all of us to trade for what we need. We can split up and meet at the inn by sunset. Take some time for yourselves, but please don't be long. We have an early start tomorrow."

Morrigan gave her a silent nod, then made her way to the nearest merchant.

You know, I can still help look for your brother, if you want. We don't have to tell the evil hag," Said Alistair, glancing pointedly towards Morrigan's retreating back.

Everil chuckled, folding her arms with a light smirk. "Watch yourself. If she hears you she may just turn you into a toad."

He returned her smile. "Maybe, but seeing the pissed off look on her face would've made it worth it. So are you sure you don't want to search for him?"

"Yes. Fergus is a capable man. If he yet lives, he won't need my help." Everil relaxed her arms, reaching down to pet her hound. "In any case, I think it may be better this way. Without the king's help I will have to take matters with Howe into my own hands. I would not want to drag him down with me should things go wrong."

"I guess you're right..." He sighed, his eyes downcast. "And I suppose I can now say I understand how you feel."

"Don't worry... We'll make sure Loghain pays for what he did," She quietly said, "Now go get what you need. I'll see you later."

"Right..." He uttered as she turned to leave.

"Oh and one more thing." She paused and spun back around, giving him a cheerful smile. "Don't forget to purchase that dress. Watching you dance the Remigold might just help scare the darkspawn back into the deep roads."

"Thanks for reminding me! Maybe it'll work on the archdemon too." He replied with a grin and watched her laugh and walk away, leaving him standing alone by the chantry. A soft breath left him as he kept his eyes on her, watching her cross the bridge over the stream which ran through the village, her faithful hound following behind her. It had only been days since they met, and yet he already felt comfortable around her. Her innate beauty and strong personally just seemed to naturally draw him in. Her ability to put thoughts into words with such conviction was something he had never seen in someone as young as she. Alistair almost felt like he was beginning to admire her.

As he made to walk, something from the corner of his eye caught his attention. He jumped over the short, wooden fence bordering the chantry's gardens and headed towards the captivating object.

It was a single rose, perched upon a dead nest of twigs and thorns. It shone brightly under the little sunlight filtering through the clouds, its bright red color a sharp contrast against the landscape of yellow and brown. He reached out, pulling a small knife from his belt to ever so gently cut the flower from its crumbling bush. He gingerly hid it in his breastplate, and then pushed himself up, a smile spreading over his lips as he made his way towards the town's merchants.

xxxxxxx

Everil approached the inn in silence, listening to the banter of the villagers gathered outside.

"I hear Teyrn Loghain is recruiting people for the war against the Blight."

"After what happened to the king? I'm telling ya, I ain't joining no army unless they make me."

"Well they say the teyrn was the one who killed the king. That it was over the crown."

"Really? I thought it was the Grey Wardens that did him in."

"Aye. My cousin in Denerim said the nobles are all putting together a civil war against the teyrn because of it all. But who knows what's what? You can't trust anyone these days."

Everil scoffed quietly, murmuring to herself. "You can say that again." Sighing she opened the door to the building, stepping into the tavern area. She took a seat in an open table, spreading over it the items she had purchased earlier. Some poison bottles for her blades, a new, much sturdier bow and some dried meat. She organized everything in a leather bag, closed it and placed it down by her feet. She then slung the quiver over her chest and did the same with the bow. Satisfied with the adjustments, she hailed the waitress.

"Yes, how can I help you my lady?"

"Wine, ham and bread please," Everil said as she placed a few coins in her hand.

The woman gave her an apologetic smile. "I-I'm afraid we only have bread and ale, my lady."

"It's quite all right. Bread and ale is fine." Everil smiled, slightly ashamed as she reminded herself things were not the same in such a small village, especially when compared to a large town like Highever.

 _Not to mention food must be scarce right now, with so many refugees in the village._

Once her food was set upon the table, she gave her thanks and pinched at the bread. It was nowhere near as good as the bread Nan used to make for them, but it wasn't as bad as the other nobles made it out to be. She moistened it up in the ale, chewing slowly on it.

Suddenly a knife stabbed her table, an armored hand wrapped around it. Everil slowly looked up the arm, her eyes following it up to its owner, taking in the intricate plated armor on his body. It was expensive armor. Which meant the man was likely a knight serving under someone powerful, or a powerful man himself.

"What's a beautiful woman such as yourself doing in a place like this? And all alone, no less." The gruff man snickered down at her, his dark skin and black hair clashing against the shining grey of his armor.

Magnus growled from under the table, his whole body tensing with hostility. Everil reached under and scratched his ear; her way of telling him everything was fine. Her hound was still injured, and this man didn't look to be the compassionate type. He would surely kill her dog without a second thought.

"Considering the amount of people coming into the village these days, I find that question rather foolish," Everil replied while returning her attention to her food, completely unfazed by the man's attempt at intimidation. "I also fail to see how my purpose here is any of your concern."

The man's brows narrowed dangerously and he gritted his teeth. "How dare you, woman? You will address me with respect, for I serve as knight to Teyrn Loghain, your now king."

"Oh? I did not realize he would be crowned king in such a short time. King Cailan's body is not even cold yet," She muttered, earning another angry look from him as she dipped more bread in ale and casually nibbled on it.

"You dare slander King Loghain's name?"

Everil lifted her chin proudly while continuing to pinch at her food. "I believe the better question here is: Why are you bothering me?"

"Hmph… that tongue of yours will surely get you killed one day, girl. Which may be today…" He edged down with narrowed eyes, his face coming dangerously close to hers. "You resemble one of the Grey Wardens I saw in Ostagar—the same ones my king ordered we execute on sight."

Everil tensed at this, but hid her reaction under a mask of indifference. "I know not what you speak of, Ser. I only just arrived here."

"Sure you do…" He reached down, his gloved fingers touching the soft waves of her hair. "I remember that beautiful girl… She was the last to arrive with Duncan."

She stiffened at the intrusion, her hold on the pint of beer tightening. "I don't know who this Duncan is. Now could you please—"

Then he grabbed a handful of her hair, forcefully hoisting her up from her seat. "Don't lie, woman! I know it's you!"

Everil swung her arm in a flash, slamming the metal pint onto his face, splashing ale all over her table. He quickly let go and stepped back, holding on to his broken nose with both hands, hopelessly trying to stop the blood splattering the floor. As he did, the doors to the tavern opened, Alistair and Morrigan walking in to take in the scene before them.

Everil stood by the table, holding a dented ale mug while glaring heatedly at a man trying to put his face back together.

"My but the fun never ends." Morrigan said in mild amusement as the two approached their companion.

"I don't know what your problem is, but I suggest you stand down if you wish to return to your Teyrn Loghain in one piece." Everil uttered with a dangerous edge in her tone.

Other armored men stood from their seats around the bar, walking towards the one with the broken nose. They seemed lower in rank however, possibly soldiers accompanying him in his travels.

"Loghain…?"Alistair asked from behind her, placing a hand on his sword as he eyed the men. "I take it they know who we are."

Everil's intense eyes never left the enemy. "Yes… That one remembered by face."

"Ah so there's another one alive still!" The knight said, a smirk upon his bloodied features. "Even better! We'll kill them both in my lord's name!"

"Says the fellow with the broken face..." Alistair humored.

A redheaded woman dressed in chantry robes then approached the bunch, stepping between the Wardens and the soldiers, her hands clasped upon her skirt.

"Gentlemen, please," She said with velvet soft voice. "Many people are scared and weary. You will only frighten them more."

"I do not care about any of these people! They are dead meat anyway. These bastards betrayed the king and now seek to slander my lord's name. I will not allow them to continue living." He regarded them angrily. "Now get out of the way sister, or you will be cut down too!"

One of them reached for the nun, to which she responded by grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back in one fluid motion, instantly making him drop his sword.

"Please, violence is not the answer to every problem." She said softly, further twisting his arm until a pop was heard. The man cried out, trying to free himself from her. Another soldier tried to help his friend, and Everil watched in stunned silence as the nun pushed her victim to the ground, then turned to kick the other between the legs.

"Ooh…" Alistair winced.

The man squeaked breathlessly as he fell to the floor, his hands covering his parts.

"You bitch!"

This time the other soldiers joined in. Everil stepped in between the sister and the attackers, blocking an axe that came flying at them. Morrigan chanted and burned the man's hands, forcing him to drop his weapon and giving Everil the chance to knock him out with the pummel of her blade. Meanwhile Alistair blocked a sword with his armored arm, and then used his other to punch the man in the jaw, causing him to spit out blood on contact. He then punched him again, this time knocking him upon his back.

Loghain's knight then rushed in, reaching for Everil as he drew his sword. But before he could grab her, the sister drew her dagger, smacking his armored hand away from her. The knight snarled, his bleeding nose giving him a savage look as he pushed against her, making her struggle against the strength behind his blade.

"Duck!" Everil shouted from behind her.

The nun did, his blade swinging as he stumbled forward. Everil moved in low, the blade missing her head as she sliced through his elbow, where plate armor did not cover, severing muscle and tendons. His blood sprayed the ground and he dropped his sword, wailing and falling on a knee as he cradled his arm.

Everil pointed her blood stained sword at his neck, casting a cold look upon him.

"All right!" He swallowed, looking to the floor in defeat. "We yield…" The men around the room groaned loudly, either bleeding into the floor or covering bruises and broken bones.

The sister walked up her, a gentle smile still on her face despite being covered in another's blood. "They have surrendered. There is no need for further bloodshed. Please, spare them."

Everil gave her a sideward glance, slowly lowering her weapon. She then grabbed him by the front of his armor, her sharp aqua eyes boring down into him. "Send a message to Loghain for us. Tell him the Grey Wardens know what really happened."

"Y-yes, of course… right away!" He nodded frantically, pushing himself up and ushering his men out. The group watched them leave, sheathing their weapons.

"Thank you for sparing them. You are kind." The sister bowed her head lightly. "My name is Leliana. I am a lay sister of the chantry… or I was."

"My name is Everil, and these are Alistair and Morrigan." She gestured towards them. Her dog emerged from under the table, sitting beside her as he gave the nun a bark in greeting. "And this is my hound, Magnus."

"Well met." Leliana smiled at them.

Everil raised an inquisitive brow, eyeing the dagger strapped to the woman's back. "So… where does a sister learn to fight like that?"

The woman chuckled, her laughter as soft and alluring as silk. "We aren't all born in the chantry, you know. Some of us come from… more colorful pasts."

"I see... Well thank you for-"

"Oh this must be what my dream meant!" Leliana suddenly took her hand in both of hers, making her tense. "I would like to come with you on your journey… to help battle the Blight!"

"What?" The three said in unison.

"W-Why so eager to help?" Everil said in bewilderment, and for some reason, she felt uncomfortable under the woman's beautiful blue eyes.

Leliana slowly let go of her, looking at the floor nervously as she fumbled with her fingers. "This is going to sound completely insane…. But I had a dream. A vision! The Maker told me to help you!"

"Oh great… more crazy. I thought we were all full up." Alistair muttered from behind Everil.

"I-I don't know what to say..." Everil smiled awkwardly. "We do need the help yes, but I'm not sure it's a good idea."

Leliana's smile didn't waver. "I'm quite skilled in combat, as you said. That would be useful, no? Please think about it, at least."

They then watched as she made for the door, waving sweetly at Everil. "I will be at the chantry. Seek me out once you have made your decision."

The door closed behind her and the three seemed to visibly relax upon her departure.

Alistair gave Everil a tentative look. "You're not going to let her join us, are you?"

Everil looked around the tavern. People had been cowering behind furniture or each other, staring at them in fear. She inspected the damage they caused: blood splatters on the wooden floors, broken clay dishes and spilled ale. She sighed guiltily. "Come on. Let's see if we can even get a room after the mess we made."

xxxxxxx

"I can't believe we're having to pay extra coin just because Morrigan wanted a room for herself," Alistair grumbled from behind the flimsy wooden panel currently separating his side of the room from hers.

He would be lying if he said he didn't feel awkward spending the night in the same room as she. They did not have enough coin to pay for three separate rooms, especially after using what little they earned to prepare for the journey ahead. Everil also mentioned it was best to have some left over, in case they needed to use it later on. Regardless, he figured that if they didn't have Morrigan along, the two would have ended up sleeping alone anyway. If not in an inn, then out in the wilderness.

"I can't exactly blame her. She is used to being alone and does not seem to trust people easily," Everil said as she sat on her bed, leaning over to undo the buckles on her boots.

"I think she's just a hateful shrew, but that's just me," He muttered, and then a question began itching at him. "What about you? Do you trust me?"

Everil looked up from her boots to the panel dividing their room. He had witnessed everything that happened to her and helped save her life. She hadn't thought about it yet, but although they barely knew each other there was already a sense of companionship between them. Something she hadn't experienced with anyone outside of her own family and those close to them. She figured perhaps that was because she was now a Grey Warden like him, and because hardships had a way to bring people together.

A smile spread over her lips at the realization. "Of course I trust you… we're friends."

There was a pause, and then a light hearted chuckle from him. "I suppose we are, huh? So… Does that mean you don't mind spending the night in the same room like this?"

That one surprised her a little. She was so focused on getting them warm beds to sleep on that it hadn't occur to her she would be spending the night in the same room as he. She wanted to smack herself, and not because she was ashamed, but because of the many ideas now rushing through her head. It didn't help he was handsome and had never mentioned anything about a woman in his life.

If only she were a bit more brazen... Then perhaps...

The silence that followed made him emerge from behind the panel, wearing only the thin layer of his undershirt and trousers after having removed his armor.

"Everil...? Uhm… Do you want me to sleep outside?" He frowned with concern at her blank stare, completely oblivious to the way her eyes trailed his muscular body.

"N-no! I… I'm sorry. I was just thinking about how hot this room is. You would think it would be cooler without a fireplace in it." She chuckled innocently, fanning her face with her hand as she smiled. And she realized then that if he was asking her such questions, then perhaps he was thinking along the same lines she was. She smirked inwardly, deciding to test that notion.

"And to answer your question…" She uttered with a playful grin. "No, I don't mind sleeping here like this. I trust you won't do anything to me."

He visibly relaxed.

"But you know… you're welcomed to try. I think I might like it."

His eyes widened, his face turning a light tint of red.

"Uh…Uhm…"

She was right. And she found it utterly adorable. Everil laughed loudly, hiding her own racing heart. "Don't worry. I was only joking."

He cleared his throat, bringing his hand up to his chest. "Could you…not do that? I have a weak heart, you know."

"Oh I'm sure your heart is fine." She shook her head and slid off her gloves, placing them on the small table next to her bed. She then produced a map from her bag and crossed her legs on the mattress. She decided it was time to stop torturing herself and get back to what they were supposed to be doing. The last thing she wanted was to make things awkward between them for the rest of the eve and beyond.

"All right… we should probably use this opportunity to plan our next stop," Everil voiced, motioning for him to come over. Alistair pulled a chair from the corner, bringing it over to her side of the room. He sat with the back of the chair to his chest, resting his arms over it while looking down map.

"I looked at the treaties, and as we said before, we can get the support of the Dwarves, Dalish Elves and Mages. " She pulled out a piece of coal and began to circle locations on the map. "If I remember Aldous' teachings… The Dwarves are here, Mages are here—and last I heard—the Dalish Elves were heading towards the Brecilian Forest… here." She looked up at him. "Is this correct?"

"Yes, that's right."

"You said the Arl of Redcliffe could help us…Cailan's death aside, are you certain he will be willing to lend us his aid?"

He nodded. "He raised me… He'll help us."

Her brows shot up. "Wait… He raised you? Are you family to the arl?"

Alistair looked as if he had been caught stealing bread and began to scramble for words. "Huh? I said that? No! I…uh…I was raised by a pack of wild dogs."

"Wild dogs huh?" She smiled sarcastically and leaned back against the headboard, folding her arms. "That must have been quite difficult for them."

"Yes wild… flying dogs, actually. Strict parents, and devout Andrastians to boot! Very religious… That's why I ended up in the chantry," He said with a grin as he crossed his arms over the back of the chair.

"So flying, religious, wild dogs..." She pouted mockingly. "You poor thing…"

"Or did I dream all that?" He let a corner of his lips go up. "Funny the dreams you have when sleeping on the cold, hard ground. Are you having any strange dreams?"

"I have…" With a seductive smile, Everil leaned over, resting her elbow on one leg and her chin upon her hand. "And they all involved making mad love to you."

Alistair's cheeks turned red, heat rising to his face once more as he gazed at her fluttering eyes. "Oh uhm… I lost my chain of thought… oh there it is!"

She laughed lightly at his reaction. She felt a little guilty, but she couldn't deny she was having fun teasing him.

Alistair cleared his throat again, trying to regain his ability to think. He found he didn't mind the flirting, and despite feeling bashful, he actually kind of liked it. It told him she felt comfortable enough around him, something that would make the difficult journey ahead of them much easier to endure. "All right, I'll tell you." He finally began, letting out a breath. "I'm a bastard—"

She opened her lips to say something, but he cut her off.

"—And before you make any smart remarks, I mean the fatherless kind."

Her smile faded. "Oh…"

"My mother was a serving girl at castle Redcliffe for many years. My father left her with child and she died shortly after giving birth to me. I had no one to take care of me, so the arl found it in his heart to take me in and raise me as if I were his own," He said and then smiled at the compassionate look in her eyes.

"But why did he send you off to the chantry? If you were like a son to him..." She uttered awkwardly.

"Arl Eamon married a young Orlesian woman. Which by the way caused all sorts of problems with the king…since it was so soon after the war for Ferelden's independence. She already had her defenses up by the time she came to live in the castle. And when she heard others say I was the arl's bastard son, she felt threatened."

"Why didn't the arl do something to stop those rumors?"

"He didn't mind them, but she did. She cared about appearances, especially in a country where she was seen as just a foreigner. So… off I went, shipped to the nearest monastery at age ten to train in the fine arts of mage hunting." He let out a humorless chuckle at the bitter memories. "Just as well… by that time the arlessa had made sure the castle wasn't a home to me anymore."

Everil frowned, her eyes cast upon the map. "What a terrible thing to do to a child…"

"I suppose…but I don't begrudge her for it. Now that I'm older I can see why the rumors would have bothered her so." He felt a corner of his lips go up, his eyes downcast. "I was so angry when the Arl told me the news…I remember throwing my mother's amulet against the wall. It had Andraste's symbol on it… the only thing I ever had of my mother's. It shattered to pieces…" He sighed regretfully. "What a stupid, stupid thing to do."

She offered him a gentle smile. "You were only a child, Alistair."

"And raised by dogs… or might as well have been, the way I acted. Arl Eamon tried many times to visit me at the monastery. He would often come see how I was doing… to talk to me. The few conversations we had ended in me yelling at him for abandoning me. The rest of the time I refused to see him. But he kept trying despite me running away from him… until he just stopped coming." He glanced anxiously at her. "I hope he'll forgive me."

"I'm sure he will." She reached out, placing a hand on his arm in an attempt to reassure him.

"Thank you." He smiled lightly, patting her hand in response. An awkward silence then filled the air, until he focused his attention back on the map. "Now…Where were we?"

"Oh... Well since you are confident he will help us, perhaps we should go to Redcliffe first. Loghain will soon find out we're alive, and he will no doubt try something." She circled Redcliffe's location, eyes pensive as she spoke. "Arl Eamon may be able to get him off our backs, and even provide additional aid as we pick up the support mentioned in the treaties. What do you think?"

Alistair hesitated. He knew they were bound to go to Redcliffe, but he hadn't expected it be so soon. He glanced up at her, a troubled look crossing his eyes.

"Alistair? If you need more time—"

"No... I just... It's fine. You're right. We should go to Redcliffe first." He leaned back then pushed himself off the chair before bringing it back to where it was before. Everil followed him with her eyes, a slightly concerned look upon her face.

"Are you sure you will be all right seeing him again?"

"Hey you lead, I follow. So long as you don't take us on some sort of suicidal quest, I'm happy," He said and then chuckled as he flopped down on his own bed, his hands at the back of his head.

She half-smiled. "Are we not already on one?"

"Oh that's right!" He said sarcastically over the wooden panel, "See? There are a lot worse things to worry about."

Everil shook her head hopelessly while rolling up the map. No wonder losing his-Or rather-Their comrades affected him so. He probably didn't know what it felt like to have a family. She set the rolled paper aside and then leaned back, resting her head on the pillow. Soon a light snore filled the silence of the room, and she couldn't help but smile. Yes, they barely knew each other, but she was sure this man had her back. And she had his.

xxxxxxx

Unintelligible voices echoed in her head, stabbing into her brain. She covered her ears, kneeling down into a ball as she tried to block out the noise. Images of dismembered bodies and the blank stares of the dead flashed before her eyes.

Then the scenery changed and darkspawn surrounded her, clashing the weapons on their hands and chanting in words she could not understand. A loud roar erupted from above and she looked up to see a mighty creature she had only seen in history books. It spit purple fire, lighting up the chasm as the darkspawn marched along the underground canyon. The dragon then turned its gaze upon her, as if knowing she was listening. Its mouth opened wide and it snapped forward, ready to devour her.

Everil sat up with a start, and at the other side of the room she heard Alistair do the same. She panted breathlessly, a hand to her forehead in an attempt to ease the pounding headache.

"Did you see that?" Alistair asked quietly, his own voice strained with fear.

"The dragon?" She uttered weakly.

"That's the archdemon..."

Everil heard rustling behind the wooden pane as he slid off his bed. He stumbled over to the large candle in the middle of the room, lighting it and allowing the flickering flame to illuminate the room.

"What does it all mean?" She asked as she looked up at him, seeing him run a hand over his face.

"It means this is really a Blight..." He sighed, casting tired eyes upon her. "It talks to the horde, and we can hear it, as they do. Other Wardens said they could even understand it."

A scream erupted from outside the inn, echoing through the night. Magnus' ears perked as he stood, growling at the door.

Alistair's eyes widened. "They're here…?"

Everil reached for her armor, quickly throwing it on. Alistair did the same, cursing under his breath as more screams filled the village."I thought they wouldn't get to Lothering for a few more days!" She buckled her boots and then put on her weapons.

"They must have sent a detachment to take the village."

They picked up their things and stormed out of the room, bumping into Morrigan on their way down the hallway.

"Is it darkspawn?" Morrigan asked as she followed the two.

As if on cue, a genlock emerged from the corner towards the cavern, its body covered in human blood as it raised its blade up and ran towards them.

"There's the answer to your question." Everil swiftly drew an arrow, then shot it between the eyes, causing it to fall with a quiet wail.

They rushed out of the inn, over the mangled corpses of the owner and his maids. Outside, the village was in chaos while darkspawn ran amuck, slaughtering both refugees and livestock in their wake. Their numbers were not as great as in Ostagar, but they were easily overwhelming. Everil took a step in the chantry's direction, where the bulk of the refugees had set up camp, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"We cannot defeat them all. This village is theirs now. We must flee," Morrigan said from behind her, her voice barely audible over the screams of the people around them.

A woman and her child were running a distance away, a hurlock in toe with its axe raised as it chased after them. She tripped, and her son fell with her. The creature then cackled loudly and was about to bring death upon them when an arrow pierced the side of its head. It turned to look in the direction of the attacker, just to be hit the face by another arrow. It crumbled to the ground and Everil lowered her bow, rolling her head towards Morrigan. "You may be right, but we still should try to save as many as we can on our way out. Alistair and I will try to help people evacuate the village, meanwhile I want you to burn every bastard that gets too close."

Morrigan nodded stiffly, obviously disliking the idea.

They ran out towards the chaos, with Everil shooting arrows to open a path. The way behind them was relatively clear, as the darkspawn focused their forces against the chantry's templars.

Alistair cut down a genlock threatening to kill a woman and four children, then helped her up.

She looked up in fear, seeing the griffon on his armor. "A Grey Warden?"

He pushed her towards the bridge, then ushered the children to follow her. "Run north of village! Hurry!"

Everil bit her lip, quickly shooting arrows at a small group of darkspawn surrounding a man and his family. Some dropped dead, others were distracted long enough for the refugees to run away. Those that survived rushed her, but as they neared their bodies erupted into flames, burning to a pile of charred corpses.

She turned to see Morrigan standing by the bridge and nodded her way. The templars didn't seem to notice the witch, too preoccupied fighting for their lives. A scream near her drew her attention as more monsters tried to kill another group of people. Everil drew her blades this time, running towards the creatures. She kicked down at one's feet, taking him out before stabbing her dagger down into its chest. As she stood, another one fell, a stab wound upon its back. A familiar sister stood behind it, her clothes covered in blood.

"Leliana!"

The nun's eyes widened. "You're here!"

"Everil! There's more coming!" Alistair shouted, jogging up to her. "There's nothing else we can do on our own. We have to get out of there."

Everil's grip on her blades tightened, her eyes shifting to the large number of darkspawn stampeding through the village gates while cutting down the templars trying to stop them. That sense of powerlessness she hated so clawed its way up her chest at the sight. If they had been able to stomp the darkspawn threat in Ostagar...

"All right… let's go." She then turned to Leliana. "Do you still wish to join us?"

Her eyes widened. "Yes! Now more than ever."

"Welcome aboard." Everil tipped her head, then hurriedly ushered them towards the bridge. She sheathed her blades as they ran, taking her bow and shooting several arrows at the enemies following after them.

They ran across the fields along with the refugees who were desperately trying to escape. A woman fell behind, her leg crushed by a bear trap placed by the landowner. Everil ran to her, reaching down to open the device. As she struggled to free her, a hurlock raised its blade, lopping the woman's head clean off. Everil watched in shock as the body slowly fell, the woman's head dropping onto the grass next to it. Everil turned around, and was about to draw her weapons when something grabbed the hurlock, a large hand picking it up by the head to twist it with a sickening snap.

She looked up at a cage as the darkspawn's body fell, an intimidating creature standing within it. He looked down upon with a scowl, regarding her as if she were nothing but an insect, pride puffing up his massive chest.

"Thank you." She uttered breathlessly.

He mutely turned his head as more darkspawn made their way towards them.

And she knew then he would not survive here.

Everil swiftly stood and pulled out the pieces of metal stashed in her pocket before picking the lock. She wasn't about to leave anyone she could save behind.

But the man gave her an irritated look. "What are you doing, woman? I am a prisoner. Leave me to my fate."

"A life for a life! Run!" She said with a firm look, her bright blue eyes shining through the darkness. 

Upon releasing him, they ran the rest of the way towards the northern part of the village, the giant man single handedly taking out any darkspawn that dared follow.

xxxxxxx

"He's…huge."

"Yes. He's a Qunari."

"So huge…"

"Alistair…? Are you paying attention?"

He gazed down at her, pointing a finger at the creature silently towering over the two of them.

"You want him to join us?" He edged closer, whispering to her. "Recruiting the evil witch and the crazy nun wasn't enough?"

Everil shot him a mildly irritated look. "His name is Sten. And yes, as you just saw in Lothering, we need more able bodies to help us in the fight. Is that a problem?"

Alistair folded his arms as he met her gaze."I was just pointing out that we're starting to look like a freak show. Grey Wardens already have a rocky reputation in Ferelden, we should try not to make it worse."

"So I may be making the Grey Wardens look bad… Is that what you're saying?" Her eyes narrowed at him, a look she hadn't directed towards him until now. The icy blue in her eyes chilled him to the bone, making him gulp.

"N-no! I—"

"You know, I think ending the Blight will be enough to fix any damage I may have caused. Now if you'll excuse me, I am done talking," She muttered and turned on her heel with a huff.

Alistair let out an exasperated sigh, watching her stalk towards the campfire they had scrambled to put together upon finally stopping to catch their breath. It had been a hard night for them after watching an entire village massacred by the very enemy they were supposed to defeat. He could still hear the screams in his head, worse than Ostagar in many levels. At least the soldiers who perished were armed and able to fight back.

This …this was just slaughter.

After barely escaping the attack they were now camping out in the wilderness. They had hardly any sleep, were bloodied and exhausted. Slumber was no longer an option at this point either, with just moments before dawn they had to take advantage of the day's light and keep moving west.

The Qunari cast cold eyes upon the tiny man before him. "I believe the woman is upset."

Alistair found himself staring at her back as she sat by the fire. Guilt crawled its way up his chest upon realizing what he had done. He had dumped all the responsibility on her shoulders, and here he was, questioning her choices after going through yet another traumatic experience.

He groaned pitifully. "Ooh I'm an idiot…"

"Is she your… leader?"

"Yes…sort of," Alistair replied quietly.

Sten's scowl deepened. "A female Grey Warden leading a group of warriors… I do not understand this."

Alistair gave him an odd look. Qunari was more of a religion than a species. The qun had specific roles for each member of their society, roles decided upon birth or the moment the person joined them. They didn't have the best reputation in Ferelden due to the chantry's depiction of their society, but it didn't help they had such a violent history behind them. This one seemed to be a warrior, which would no doubt help them in their quest.

"I can imagine..." Alistair offered him half smile. "And uhm… welcome."

Sten nodded mutely, his face still devoid of emotion as he crossed his mighty arms over his chest.

Alistair walked up to her then and took a seat next to her. She didn't react or seem to care, and he couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not.

"Look… I'm sorry. You're right. We need all the help we can get and we don't have the luxury to be picky." He gave the most apologetic look he could muster. "Can we be friends again please? You can punch me if it'll make you feel better."

She turned a gentle smile towards him. "It's all right, Alistair. No harm done."

He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm not angry anymore."

"Ah good… I was worried I had shoved my foot too far into my mouth back there." He uttered, gazing into the flickering flames before them. Then a dull pain shot through his arm. "Ouch! I thought you said you weren't angry!"

She laughed, drawing back her fist. "I'm not, but I was in a great deal of stress. I feel much better now."

"Now that's just _not_ very nice." He gave her phony hurt look, rubbing his arm.

"Well—" She pushed herself up with a huff. "—we should start walking. If we leave now we should reach Redcliffe in a couple of days."

Everil walked towards their new companions, motioning for them to gather. Alistair stood and kicked dirt into the fire. They were going to his hometown, if he could even call it that. The thought made him anxious. There were many things there he was happy to avoid, but now he may have to face much more than just the arl. He turned weary eyes towards Everil as she relayed their plan to the others.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter V

"Morrigan. I think you would look marvelous in a purple silk dress. With black lace embroidery, and a dangerously low front cut. Oh and some beautiful blue shoes… yes I believe that would suit you."

"What are you going on about now?" Morrigan turned her irritated eyes towards Leliana, only to see her gaze wandering in admiration. She covered her chest, turning away mortified. "Will you cease gawking at my chest!"

Leliana smiled sweetly, ignoring the dangerous edge on the witch's voice. "I was only imagining how pretty you would look. We should go shopping some time!"

"I refuse," She replied coldly.

"Oh come now, don't be shy. If would be fun! Just two lovely women, playing dress up together in the busy streets of Denerim… oh how I miss the old days."

"There is something seriously wrong with you," Morrigan uttered grumpily, picking up the pace in an attempt to leave the woman behind.

Their group was traveling up the imperial highway, heading west to Redcliffe.

"It's desolate out here… The Imperial Highway used to be one busy road, especially for trade," Alistair commented, walking a few feet behind Everil, who lead the party at the front.

"Everyone is probably avoiding travel now… or going towards Denerim." She replied, eyes to the horizon as she took in the emptiness ahead. Voices in her head suddenly made her stop in her tracks, pulling on her mind like a magnet. She reached up to touch her forehead her eyes turning towards the source.

"Help!"

They looked toward the sound of the voice and then ran to it without a second thought. A wagon with spilled goods lay at the edge of the road, and not far from it stood two dwarves, one of them weilding a short sword. A small group of darkspawn surrounded them, laughing maniacally at their soon to be victims when one of them suddenly fell, an arrow sticking through its neck.

Seeing their companion fall, the others turned to them as Everil lowered her bow, scowling at them. "Why don't you pick on somebody your own size?"

The darkspawn snarled and charged, weapons at the ready as they approached the Wardens. Everil drew her blades, slashing at two of the enemies that got too close. Alistair did the same, taking out a couple more. It was over within minutes and darkspawn lay on the ground, their blood seeping through the grass and dirt.

"Mighty timely arrival, friends! I am much obliged!" Said one of the dwarves, a smile on his bearded face.

"You are welcome. Are the two of you all right?" Everil asked, sheathing her blades.

"Yes, all is well," He replied with a nod, "Might I ask which way you're headed? Perhaps we're going the same way."

She chuckled. "I doubt you'll want to travel with Grey Wardens."

"A Grey Warden, you say?" He let out a hearty laugh. "You might be right. Your travels might have a bit more excitement than my boy and I can handle. Allow me to bid you farewell then, my lady. Safe travels to you."

They continued on their way, leaving the two dwarves behind.

"We are a ways from Lothering. What were darkspawn doing all the way out here?" Leliana asked as she approached Alistair and Everil.

"Darkspawn control the deep roads, ancient highways used by the dwarves in the old days," Alistair replied quietly, then glanced at the nun, "That means they can pop out of the ground anywhere in Ferelden, especially during a Blight. Which is part of the reason why Grey Wardens are needed."

Leliana swallowed uncomfortably. "Oh... I see."

"Still glad you joined?" Everil asked as she smiled dryly.

"Of course I am. The more I know about all this, the more I want to help," Leliana said with determination. "Now, on a lighter note... Everil, I think you would look beautiful in a soft pink dress... you, Morrigan and I should go to Denerim some time!"

Somewhere in the back of their group a pitiful female groan was heard.

xxxxxxx

The night fell upon them just hours before their arrival to Redcliffe. They had the choice to rest for the night or continue trekking through the roads. Everil decided they deserved the rest after having traveled all day on only a few hours of sleep. They set up camp in a small clearing close to a nearby stream, the sound of rolling water almost soothing over the thoughts of the evil bringing death upon the southern parts of Ferelden.

The others had gone to either scout the area or bring food, leaving only two party members to watch over the camp.

Alistair knelt next to a pile of dry twigs, gathering them together to make their campfire. In a few hours he would be in Redcliffe, and Everil would find out more about his past than he would like. He felt guilt at the thought of not having told her everything when he had the opportunity in Lothering. She said they were friends, but instead of her words making it easier to tell her, it just made him more nervous. He didn't know how she would react upon finding out the truth, but he knew others treated him differently in the past because of it.

Alistair couldn't exactly tell why he cared so. Perhaps it was simply because she was the only other comrade left in the order or perhaps he just liked the way she would joke and laugh with him. How she seemed so comfortable and open around him, despite the brevity of their time together. He didn't want that to change. He didn't want her to distance herself from him. He sighed, reaching for his flint when suddenly a flame erupted before him. He fell back on his rear with a yelp, successfully avoiding having his eyebrows burned off.

Morrigan laughed from where she stood a mere steps away, her fingers still aflame. "Just what sort of templar are you? I could have burned you alive if I so wished."

He shot the woman a heated glare and picked himself up from the ground. "Very funny. Don't you have anything better to do? Like… eat children or terrorize some random chasind village?"

"Does your Chantry teach nothing but tales? Though I suppose 'tis not surprising considering the intellectual capacity of their templars... Or lack thereof." She mocked as she crossed her arms, smirking while watching him kneel to tend to the fire.

"Because living in the middle of the woods like an animal makes you so much smarter than me," He muttered irritably.

"One's birth place has little influence on one's ability to learn. With the right tools, anyone can turn a savage into a man. On the other hand, if one is born stupid and raised among glorified ignorance, then that would lead to... You."

He continued working despite the growing tension in his shoulders, trying his best ignore her insults.

"Hm I wonder... Why were you and the new Warden sent to the tower when the other Wardens fought in the front lines? Is your stupidity the reason your Duncan kept you out of the fight?" She tilted her head in curiosity,"Or is there something more behind the special treatment?"

Alistair rose to his feet and took angry steps to her, standing close so his was face was inches from hers as he spoke through clenched teeth. "Do us all a favor, Morrigan. Go crawl under a bush somewhere and die."

"Ooh I must have struck a nerve." Her purple lips formed a sly smile, amusement etched upon her features. "You have been casting anxious looks at the back of your Warden friend since we began our travels to your hometown. 'Tis made me curious... Are you perhaps hiding something from her?"

Alistair's eyes narrowed at her. "That's none of your-"

"Oh just kiss already!"

They both turned their eyes to the person in question and Alistair's face drained of color.

Everil stood a distance away, an amused smile on her face as she folded her arms. Sten was behind her, a dead boar limp over his broad shoulders.

Morrigan's nose curled. "The very thought of that makes my stomach turn."

Everil chuckled. "So why are you two fighting now?"

"'Tis nothing of relevance…to me at least." The witch smiled up at the awkward look upon Alistair's face. "But I'm sure Alistair can tell you more… we all know 'tis not good to have secrets amongst comrades."

He shot her a glare. "Will you shut up?"

Morrigan shrugged him off with a smirk and then turned to leave.

Sten unceremoniously dropped the boar on the ground.

Everil looked up with a grateful grin. "I thank you for your help today."

He ignored it, walking away towards the far edge of camp. He and Morrigan seemed to share the same antipathy towards large groups. She made a mental note to try and smooth things up with them. She was still curious as to why the qunari had been caged back in Lothering, but all attempts she had made at communication had been met with one-sentence responses or just straight silence.

Everil pulled out a small carving dagger from her belt and took a knee next to the boar. "Leliana isn't back yet?"

"No, but your hound is with her, so I'm sure she's fine," Alistair replied, and then took a seat by the flames as he gazed towards her. He watched her work for a moment, anxiously waiting for her to say something about his argument with Morrigan, but no questions came. He frowned, then tentatively spoke. "You're not going to ask about... about what Morrigan was talking about?"

"I don't believe I have to. I'm sure that whatever it is you're hiding, you will reveal to me when you're ready," She said softly, her eyes focused on what was to be their meal.

He felt his heart twist at this, but was relieved to know she understood. She could have forced him to tell her, but chose not to. It felt good to know that she was letting him make the decision and that she trusted him.

"Alistair… What happens when you become a Grey Warden?" She voiced curiously.

He smiled, welcoming the change of subject. "You drink some blood, choke on it and pass out. You haven't forgotten already, have you?"

She gave him a sarcastic smile. "Ha ha… very funny."

Alistair chuckled and then stood, walking around the fire to help her with their grub. He let out a breath, preparing to speak of a subject most Grey Wardens found slightly uncomfortable. "All right, let's see… aside from the wonderful nightmares we have every night, and the ability to 'listen' to the Blight. You will notice an increase in appetite. The taint will demand more from your body, so that means you will be eating more."

"Seriously?" She lifted a brow. "I haven't noticed anything like that..."

He grinned playfully. "Are you sure? Because I saw the way you scarfed down that stew Morrigan made on our way to Lothering. It had me thinking 'ooh it's a good thing she gets a lot of exercise.'"

She chuckled. "What can I say? I'm a growing girl."

"I'll say..."

She sent him a mock glare, raising a fist.

"Ah don't hit me! I bruise easily!" He jested, shielding his arm with one hand as she shook her head, returning her eyes to the boar.

"It's not like you're any better," Everil said with a smirk, "That hare we had last time didn't need to die twice, you know."

"Hah! You should have seen me the time I raided the larder in our base in Denerim. Duncan found me covered in gravy like a pig. He was laughing so hard he said he almost d—uhm..." He swallowed, looking down at the dirt.

Seeing the grief in his eyes, her features softened. "He was a good man..."

He nodded with a sullen expression, and after a brief silence, he continued. "There's... something worse about being a Grey Warden that we don't tell anyone before they join."

"Worse than the possibility of me getting fat?" She said in an attempt at lightening up his mood. But this time he didn't laugh, instead he looked guilty.

He sighed. "The taint is a death sentence…you have thirty years left to live. Tops."

Her eyes grew wide and another short silence stretched between them. None of the things she was hearing had been in any books or lessons from Aldous, and she could see why. The sacrifices Wardens make to be who they are would not necessarily draw in enough people to replenish their ranks without deception or secrecy. She wiped her bloody hands on a rag lying next to her, a bittersweet smile forming on her lips. "Ah…Well... I guess that means I don't have to worry about getting old and wrinkly."

He frowned sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "It's all right... I can understand why there is a need to keep it a secret."

"We… call it The Calling. Our nightmares they... Get worse, until they become unbearable. That's how we know our time has come. When that happens, most head down to the deep roads for one last battle against the darkspawn. I guess it's sort of a tradition now." He leaned back, gazing at her. "Duncan said his nightmares were getting worse, that he'd be leaving for the deep roads soon. It's... A shame he didn't get his wish. That he had to die in such a way. He deserved better…and so did the others."

She nodded slowly. "They will be remembered."

"You know, I don't think he had any family to speak of. All I know is that he was born and raised in Highever."

"Ah… that explains why my father knew him so well." She smiled lightly at him. "Still, I don't know much about him, but I know he did have family."

"Really? Who?" His eyebrows shot up.

"He had you. He was like a father to you, was he not?"

His expression slowly mellowed into a sad smile. "Oh…Yes… I suppose he was. Then maybe once this is over I'll go up to Highever and give him a proper service."

The idea made a small knot form in her throat. "Perhaps I will go with you. For both Duncan…and my family." She whispered, trying to shake down the pain in her chest.

"I would like that... I think he would too." He replied in almost a whisper, his kind eyes upon her.

She gave him a small smile, then turned her eyes down to the boar. The crackling of the fire was soon the only sound around them, as he watched her work in silence.

Footsteps approaching the camp made the two look up in their direction as her dog came running from the foliage, his tongue hanging out from the side of his mouth. Everil let out a giggle as he began licking her face, making her brace herself as he leaned his weight against her. "Welcome back, boy! Where you good to Leliana?"

He barked with excitement.

Leliana emerged from the woods soon after, a bow strung over her shoulder. "The area is clear, there was trouble."

Everil stood from over the boar, cleaning her hands with the same rag from before, then turned to Leliana with sheepish grin. "Thank you for securing the area. Can you cook the food? I applied the herbs like you said, but I don't know how well I did."

Leliana chuckled at her, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Of course! Perhaps I shall teach you sometime then. It would be good to learn. You may someday have to cook for someone special, no?"

Everil laughed lightly. "Uhm I don't know about that… at the moment I'm more concerned with staying alive and trying not poison you all with my cooking."

"Oh I am sure you're not as bad as you say." Leliana said with a smile, then moved towards the boar.

"You obviously have never tasted my food." Everil replied with a hopeless grin.

"I don't know... I would be willing to risk it if you ever made some." Alistair told her with a smile. "My food is way worse, I'm sure."

She chuckled, suddenly feeling bashful as she tugged a strand of hair behind her ear. "Then maybe I shall cook for you one day."

"I think I might like that." He said playfully, smiling at her while attempting to hide the unease clutching his chest.

He had to tell her everything. She deserved to know.

xxxxxxx

"All right, we don't know the situation in Redcliffe after what happened in Ostagar and I don't want to stir any trouble with the people until we find out. A large group led by two Grey Wardens may just do that. So for now I will only be taking two others with me, the rest will set up camp here until we return." She turned her eyes to Leliana and her dog. "Magnus and Leliana. My hound can serve as an additional muscle while Leliana… uhm... you just seem the most normal out of our group."

"The lunatic nun is the most normal? My, but thank you for the uplifting words," Morrigan said with a sarcastic smile.

"Hey…" Leliana sent a hurt look at the woman, one she ignored.

"Redcliffe has a chantry. Until we are clear, I would like to avoid a confrontation with their templars. Thus why I don't think barging in with a mage who is obviously from outside the circle is a good idea."

"All right…I suppose your caution is warranted. But sooner or later we will face such problems and you will have to trust in my ability to handle them or avoid them all together." Morrigan glanced meaningfully to Alistair, and then gave Everil a smirk. "Know that I did not live as an apostate my entire life without learning a thing or two about avoiding or tricking templars. And the one who taught me has been doing this for centuries."

"That may be true, but we need the arl's support. I would rather not risk it." Everil then turned to her chosen party. "Let's go."

The four of them walked the rest of the way to Redcliffe, leaving the remaining party behind. The road there was silent, and so was the village entrance when they arrived. The entrance was on a slope that oversaw the whole village, as well as it provided a view of Redcliffe castle in the distance. A high waterfall cut through their path, falling to the stream crossing the village below. They were nearing the bridge over it when someone armed with a bow approached them.

"Maker... Finally someone from the outside!" He said with relief in his voice. "Have you come to help us?"

"Help? Help with what?" Alistair frowned worriedly.

The man's face fell. "What? You haven't heard?"

"Heard what? Did something happen to the village?" Everil eyed the man with questioning eyes.

"Oh Maker... What hasn't happened...? Come with me. Bann Teagan can explain everything."

Alistair's brows shot up. "Bann Teagan? The arl's brother? He's here?"

"Yes. And he will want to know you're all here. Come."

The four followed the man, and as they descended the slopes into the village she could already tell something was very wrong. The smell of blood and death permeated the atmosphere, and while the size of the village could house hundreds, only a handful could be seen walking around.

There were barricades blocking every road while men who didn't appear to have any military experience practiced archery outside.

They neared the chantry's towering temple as their guide opened the heavy door for them. He led them down the hall, where another handful of women, children and the elderly huddled together in every corner. Their wails echoed through the building, making the atmosphere so heavy it was almost suffocating.

At the end of the hall stood a red headed man in shining armor. He finished relaying instructions to one of the villagers, then turned his attention to them.

"My lord, these people have just arrived to the village. I thought perhaps you would like to see them."

"Good work, man," He told him and then eyed the small group until his green eyes landed upon her. "Welcome friends. My name is Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere and brother to the ark. I see you are Grey Wardens... But you look very familiar, my lady."

"You may have seen me in gatherings amongst the nobility. I am Teyrn Bryce Cousland's daughter, Everil Cousland," She quietly said, her eyes unwavering. Despite no longer holding her lands and her family's power, she still felt pride in the name.

"I see... My, but you look more beautiful than I remember. It is my pleasure to see you again, your ladyship," He said as he reached out for a handshake, only to delicately take her hand in his and bring it up to his lips for a chaste kiss. His eyes never left hers as he slowly pressed his lips to the back of her hand, making her cheeks heat up in slight embarrassment.

Alistair didn't know why, but the way the bann's flirtatious gaze lingered upon her made a twinge of irritation rise up within him. He cleared his throat, attempting to get the noble man's attention. "Bann Teagan… It's been a while. Do you remember me?"

Teagan released Everil's hand, his eyes shifting towards him. "Hmm… should I?"

"It's me, Alistair. Although last we spoke I was about ten years younger, and covered in mud."

His face lit up. "Alistair! Andraste's mercy, you live! You two are the Grey Wardens that survived Ostagar, aren't you? When I heard of this I almost couldn't believe it."

"Yes, we almost died thanks to Teyrn Loghain." Alistair almost spat the name.

Teagan's features turned into a disgusted look. "Yes… I recently returned from a Landsmeet in Denerim. He claims he called a retreat in order to save his men, that Cailan placed our country at risk in the name of glory. I don't believe him. His words sound like the ravings of a madman."

"Well at least someone is on our side," Everil told him, crossing her arms over her chest. "We came seeking the support of Arl Eamon in order to overthrow Loghain and defeat the Blight."

The bann rubbed the side of his neck, a deep look of concern in his eyes. "Actually… that's one of our problems."

Alistair frowned worriedly. "What do you mean? What's wrong?"

"Eamon fell ill days before Cailan's death. We don't even know if he still lives because we have not heard from the castle since… all this started to happen." His eyes focused on Alistair, almost begging. "Alistair I know you have a Blight to battle, but you have to help us. Something evil has taken over the castle and has been attacking the village every night. Each night more people fall prey to it. If we don't do something tonight, I fear we will lose everyone in Redcliffe."

Alistair was still trying to register the news. Arl Eamon… the man who raised him, someone he once looked up to as a father, was possibly dead. He thought losing Duncan had already given him enough grief, now there was a possibility he would lose yet another man he respected. He turned to Everil, who was patiently waiting for his response, her kind eyes upon him.

He hesitated, unsure of himself. "I…I would in a heartbeat, but it's not all up to me."

Everil gave him a puzzled look and then turned to the bann. "Of course we will help. What is this evil you speak of?"

"They are walking corpses that pour out of the castle, crowding the village and attacking anything that moves. They eat you or drag you away back to the castle…it is as if they have a taste for human flesh."

She never heard of something like this ever happening. It almost didn't sound real. But they had to do something. She imaged that if they were coming from the castle, then there was something within that was causing it. And if the arl still lived and was trapped within the walls, they had to move quickly and save him. But going in through the front door would likely be a terrible idea. They would have to find another way in after sorting out the mess.

"All right then." She said firmly. "What needs to be done?"

Teagan was a little shocked. It was rare for a female to be a Grey Warden, let alone be the one making the decisions. Suddenly, and despite their dire situation, he was all the more interested in this woman. "Speak to Murdock, the village Mayor. We're in dire need of arms and muscle and he will tell you exactly where to get it."

"Very well. We shall seek out this Murdock."

xxxxxxx

"The Maker must have a bad sense of humor if he sent you here as a joke. And how is a woman a Grey Warden? I didn't even think that was possible."

Everil folded her arms, lifting up her chin at the Mayor of Redcliffe. "I'm not here to chat. Hurry up and tell me what you need." Here she was, offering assistance in their time of need and all he could do in return was belittle her simply because of what was between her legs.

Leliana leaned towards Alistair, hiding her lips behind her hand. "How awful… I thought Ferelden was a little more open to women fighting."

"Oh they can fight… but some idiots think they should be the only ones calling the shots," He hushed back with arms crossed and an annoyed look on his eyes. "Bastard should be grateful we're even trying to help. Any other Grey Warden would have probably ignored the village and left Redcliffe to its fate. The Blight always comes first."

The mayor huffed. "We need our armor and weapons repaired, but Owen the blacksmith has locked himself in the smithy. No matter how many times we try, the bastard just downright refuses to help."

"Why is he refusing to help?" She probed further.

"His daughter Valenna works as one of the Arlessa's maids. So she's trapped in the castle…that or dead. The sodded man wants us to storm the castle, but we can't do that…we're no army."

She nodded once. "I will speak with him. What else?"

"We need more hands. We lost nearly half the people on last night's attack. We don't have the numbers to survive tonight, not without extra help. There's a dwarf here by the name of Dwyn. He's an able fighter and has some hired muscle."

Everil's eyes hardened. "Let me guess… he also refuses to help the fight."

"Yes. He's also locked up in his house, by the docks. We've tried to convince him, but he just ignores us."

She sighed. Nothing was ever easy. "All right, I will find a way to talk to him as well. Anything else?"

"I would say that's it. We don't have much hope to survive tonight. All we can do is fight or die…or both. If you want to talk to the Arl's knights, they're up by the cliff overlooking the castle. Maybe they have other things you can help with."

"Got it."

She turned to her party. "Come on, let's speak with the blacksmith first."

They crossed the distance towards the smithy, a small shack nestled against the cliff walls. Everil knocked on the door, the others standing behind her.

"Go away." Came the muffled voice from behind the door.

"Owen is it? I have to talk to you." Everil said gently.

"Huh? You're not Murdock… Who are you?"

"Someone who can help find your daughter," She ventured, intent on getting him to open the door and listen to what they have to say.

The door opened, revealing an old bearded man.

It was a small victory.

"Y-you…you're Grey Wardens?"

She nodded.

"Come on in."

As they stepped in, Alistair's nose curled at the stench within the small hut. "Somebody's been drinking…" He chimed with a sarcastic smile.

The smithy walked towards the nearest table, almost tripping over his own feet as he reached for a bottle of hard liquor. He gulped it down, and then turned his drunk eyes towards her. "So speak… you say you can help me find Valenna. I take it Murdock told you about it."

"Yes. He told me you refuse to help repair their equipment unless they get your daughter out of the castle." Everil's demeanor was slightly sympathetic, knowing full well how it felt to lose a loved one.

"That's right. Valena is all I've had since my wife died. Not knowing what's happened to her…" He choked up, looking down at the bottle in his hand with miserable eyes. "Let's just say… I don't give a damn what happens to me or the village… not if she's gone."

Everil's brow furrowed, her tone kind despite her assertive words. "These people need your help tonight. I told you I could help get her back for you, but we have to fight and survive the night before I can do so."

"Hmph… you sound like you believe you'll be able to find her. I would help… but I want reassurance that you will do what you say you will do." He took another swig, wobbling lightly before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"If you help the village tonight I'll go into the castle first thing in the morning. I will do my best to find your daughter then."

Leliana watched the exchange, feeling slight admiration towards the one leading them. She hadn't seen a strong woman like her since her time in Orlais. That she was so willing to help these people despite the odds being against them told her she would not regret following her, and that the Maker had chosen this path for her knowing so.

"Not good enough!" He snapped at her with frustration. "I want a promise. A personal oath from you."

Alistair lifted a brow. "Isn't that a little much? No one can make a promise like that, not without knowing what's happening in the castle."

Owen glared drunkenly at him. "Murdock said the same damn thing she said. I didn't believe him one bit. If you want my help I want that oath. I want to know I can trust you and that you'll bring back my daughter… dead or alive."

"I promise I will find your daughter. You have my word," Everil replied without hesitation.

Alistair's eyes widened lightly, watching as she placed yet another burden upon her shoulders. Truth be told, they could easily just lie to the old man and get their way regardless, but he could tell Everil took her promises very seriously.

"Good... thank you." The old man's lips spread into a hopeful smile. "Go tell Murdock he'd better hurry and send his men over. We only have a few hours of daylight left. Now if you'll excuse me, I should probably get to work."

They watched as Owen placed his bottle on the table, then stumbled towards the burning hearth.

Everil shifted her attention towards her party, eyes sharp as she spoke. "That leaves the dwarf. Let's go talk to him"

xxxxxxx

Everil knocked on the door.

No response.

She knocked again, this time a little harder. "Hello? Dwyn, I know you're in there."

No response.

"I don't think he wants to talk to us." Leliana pouted her lips, a little aggravated. "What kind of warrior would ignore these people's cries for help?"

"Probably someone who acts tough, but is actually a coward," Alistair offered with distaste.

"He wants to sit this one by while everyone gets slaughtered." Everil huffed, reaching into her pockets and pulling out two pieces of wire to pick the lock. "I guess we'll simply have to force our way in and convince him to help."

"Wait. I think in this case we should show the man we mean business," Alistair said as he laid a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her aside.

Everil looked up at him quizzically. "What are you—"

He kicked open the door, breaking it off the hinges before it fell to the floor, revealing a dwarf whose eyes were wide as saucers.

Everil's mouth remained open in mid-sentence as she numbly held her lock picking tools, his abrupt display of physical strength making her knees feel weak.

"Y-You…!" Dwyn glared heatedly at them, his hands curling into fists.

"There you are!" Alistair said as he stepped into the building, stopping before him with arms crossed while giving the dwarf a stern look. "How about you stop hiding like a frightened nug and help these people fight?"

Everil moved in to stand next to him, mimicking his stance.

"And what's in it for me?" The dwarf said with a defiant tilt of his bearded chin. "Why should I give a damn what happens to them?"

Everil's eyes narrowed down at him. "You really feel comfortable hiding here, letting these villagers die without lifting a finger?"

"They're nothing to me. I only live here because this is my best trading spot. Once tonight's over and they're all dead, I'll be leaving this village," He said with a snicker and the two muscled men standing next to him crossed their arms, attempting to intimidate their group.

"All right, let me put it this way..." Everil uttered darkly, completely unfazed by the two acting bodyguards. "You can go out there tonight and possibly survive to see the light of day, or we can just kill you now. Take your pick."

Dwyn shot her an angry look. "You think that just because you're a Grey Warden you can go around making threats?"

She smirked. "And who's going to stop me?"

"I wouldn't challenge her, if I were you," Alistair warned with a grin, "I've seen her chop off darkspawn heads with a single swing of her sword. The same thing might happen to you."

The dwarf grumbled, taking a step back. He almost forgot whom he was dealing with. These people were almost just as monstrous as the creatures they killed for a living. "Fine. I'll go. But you better be out there with us tonight."

They watched the dwarf and his body guards walk out, still grumbling curses under his breath. After the dwarf left she let out a chuckle. "Well that went well."

"Were you really going to kill him if he didn't help?" Leliana asked as she gazed at the two with a troubled frown.

"Of course not," Everil replied as she made for the door, "Some people just need a little more convincing than others, even if through a lie."

xxxxxxx

A map of the village was laid out on a table at the center of the bar while the remaining men of the village gathered around it. Murdock, now wearing rough leather armor, stood closest to the table, with Bann Teagan beside him.

He leaned over, running a finger over the map. "The creatures come from the castle's main entrance, through the bridge and down this path. Now that some of the knights are with us, we can set up a frontal defense at the village gates, while the rest of us gather here to shield the non-combatants. We will hold our ground until the night is over."

"That's not going to work," Everil spoke up from where she stood at the other side of the table, folding her arms over her chest.

Murdock looked up from the map as everyone cast their eyes upon her. Alistair and Leliana stood by, both of them also casting quizzical looks her way.

Murdock scowled. "What? Don't tell me you've a better plan. This has worked the last two times we stood against them."

"But you lost a lot of people in the process," She said as she walked up to the side of the table, leaning over the map. "You say they come in great numbers. We need to find a way to funnel them in order to take out as many as possible before they reach the village."

Bann Teagan watched closely as Murdock folded his arms, giving the woman a critical eye as he gruffly spoke. "All right… show me what you've got."

She nodded then leaned over, her delicate fingers pointing at the map. "We have barricades here already, but they're too close to the chantry, where the non-combatants will be taking refuge. We want to distance the fight, so as to keep stragglers from going in and so as to not corner ourselves against a wall. So let's start at the village entrance."

"We place barricades here, block off as much room as possible and only leave an opening through which we can strike as they come in. The knights and my group can be posted here, since we will be able to deliver the most damage. Posting archers on higher ground here, and here will provide additional coverage from a higher viewpoint."

She looked around the room, eyes scanning the weary villagers. "Still… there will be some we will be unable to hit, and I would say to be prepared for any unpredictability. I would post archers at the highest buildings, overseeing the whole of the village. They not only will act as lookouts, but will be able to assist against any stragglers coming down the cliff side."

Murdock reached up to his red mustache, twisting it thoughtfully between his fingers. The men around them nodded their heads amongst each other, while Alistair and Leliana stared in quiet admiration.

"What else do you have, my lady?" Bann Teagan asked with interest.

"The rest of the combatants can act as the second line of defense, but I suggest we barricade every possible route they can use to flank us… here, here and here. We use the same funneling tactic, but I would layer the barricades and build as many obstacles between them and the chantry as possible. If we can hold our positions through the night, we should have minimal casualties."

"That… that sounds like a great idea." One of the knights spoke up, eyes hopeful. "You seem to know a great deal about combat strategies, my lady."

She smiled. "My father taught me everything he knew about laying out a battlefield."

"I say we do it," Teagan said with a determined look.

"Hmph… I agree." Murdock eyed the map, then slowly nodded. "It seems we have a plan people. Now you only have a couple of hours before nightfall, let's prepare and hope for time to rest…because tonight we'll be fighting until the break of dawn."

The group in the bar dispersed, filtering out through the door towards their next task. Bann Teagan approached her, a smile on his face. "Well done, my lady. Although I noticed you didn't mention your family's name."

"It's not necessary... I'm just a Grey Warden now," She replied quietly as the rest of her party walked up to them.

He smiled sadly, having heard of her family's fate in his last visit to Denerim, "I see... well I imagine you must be tired from your travels, as well as the running about the village. I suggest you rest for now. The villagers and my brother's men can take care of the preparations."

"Are you certain?"

Teagan smiled. "Of course. You may use the village inn as you please. Your rooms are already paid for. We will call upon you when ready."

Everil nodded. "Understood. Thank you."

"No no… Thank you." He said, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder.

The four made for the far side of the inn, where the rooms were located. This time each of them had their own rooms, all costs covered by the bann himself.

Leliana smiled at the two Wardens as she walked to her room. "It sounds like we'll have a great deal of excitement tonight. I shall go pray to the Maker… for all of us." With that she stepped in, closing the door behind her.

Everil sighed, and then neared her door, reaching for the handle. "I suppose I'll go do the same."

"Everil..."

She turned her head to see Alistair take a few steps towards her, a somewhat grim expression upon his handsome features as he spoke. There's something I have to tell you… in private. Can I come in with you?"

Her brows shot up, confused at both his cryptic words and the subtle skip in her heart at his request.

Everil paused, a light wave of heat rising to her cheeks at his request. "O-of course. Come in." She stammered and opened the door, stepping in along with her hound as Alistair followed her.

"What's on your mind?" She asked as she walked towards the bed, taking a seat at the edge while Alistair pulled up a chair nearby.

"Remember that secret I needed time to tell you?" He began as he sat.

Her brow furrowed. "Yes."

"Well..." Alistair leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees as he gazed solemnly at her. "I decided you deserved to know… especially after all we've been through. I already told you I'm a bastard… and that I didn't know who my father was." He took a deep breath, his eyes cast upon the wooden floor. "I... I lied. The truth is that I… I do know who he is— or… was."

Everil wasn't at all upset with him for lying, everyone had their secrets. So she patiently waited for him to continue, her eyes devoid of judgement and carrying nothing but kindness, seeing that whatever it was he was trying to tell her was not easy.

He mustered his courage and shifted his gaze up from the floor, his eyes meeting hers. "My father… was King Maric."

Everil's eyes went wide. "What...?"

He continued, his eyes straying to the floor once more, his voice nearly a whisper. "He took a maid, my mother, to his chambers... And upon finding out she was with child, she was sent to castle Redcliffe, where she gave birth to me."

She was finding it difficult to find the right words, still not quite believing her ears. "Maker…" She said, and despite the weight of the conversation, she allowed a small smile to spread upon her lips. "So... you're not only a bastard, but a royal bastard?"

Alistair resealed a soft, surprised laugh and smiled. "Hey that's clever! Maybe I should use that line more often. But yes… I'm the late king's bastard son. Which also makes Cailan my half-brother, I suppose."

Everil's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Why did they keep it a secret?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "I was an inconvenience… a possible threat to Cailan's rule. So they kept me hidden. Which is fine by me, since I've no interest in the throne. The very thought of that ever happening terrifies me."

Alistair then stood and walked up to the only window in her room, gazing out at Redcliffe castle in the distance. "Arl Eamon would be better suited for the job… if he lives. I want no part in it."

The whole conversation seemed surreal. It's not every day a man walks up to you and tells you they're a bastard prince. She realized then that his life must have been a harsh one, full of doubts and uncertainties. As a noble herself she knew they favored appearances. They would trample over anyone to maintain that perfect image before the masses. Therefore she couldn't blame him for resenting his bloodline. But with Cailan dead, Ferelden's throne was now empty. Someone would have to occupy it sooner or later, especially now with a Blight spreading over the lands.

"Does Loghain know about this?" She asked worriedly.

Alistair's brow furrowed as the thought hit him. "Most likely… he was King Maric's best friend, after all."

Her eyes narrowed. "Then we will need to be a little more careful out there. He could try to kill you in order to secure the throne."

"Heh maybe… but I'm sure he would still be plotting something against us anyway. So we both have to be careful regardless." He turned to her with a sad smile. "Anyhow, that's all I wanted to tell you."

She rose to her feet, folding her arms as she gave him a teasing grin. "Are you sure that's all? There is no other secret somewhere I should know about?"

His smile widened. "Besides my unholy love of fine cheeses and a minor obsession with my hair, no. That's it. Just the prince thing."

"You know..." Everil said as she walked up to him, gazing up at him with flirtatious eyes. "I think there is something rather attractive about royalty."

"Oh?" His brows shot up in mock surprise, his heart skipping at her words. "Did I just find the one damn descent thing about my birthright? I think I did."

She chuckled lightly.

His eyes softened at her laughter, suddenly feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Anyway... I should go to my room now before people start getting the wrong idea about you." He said, gently patting her shoulder before stepping towards the door. "I'll see you later."

"Before you go..."

He paused mid step, craning his head to look at her.

"Why did you not tell me before?" She tilted her head with curiosity, a troubled look upon her brow. "I would have understood… I feel bad you didn't tell me sooner."

"Aw please don't feel bad! I didn't tell you because it just wasn't something I though was... important. Even in the Grey Wardens, Duncan was the only one who knew." He sighed and reached out to gently take her hand in his. "And... I guess the main reason I didn't say anything after Ostagar was... because I didn't want you to treat me differently."

She frowned. "Treat you differently?"

He nodded slowly. "Anyone who found out would always see the bastard Prince instead of just Alistair. They would either coddle me or resent me because of it. Even Duncan would find ways to keep me out of the fight."

She looked down at her hand, noticing how small it was within his as her heart beat faster. "Alistair… I—"

"I just wanted you to know in case this becomes a problem for you later on… especially here in Redcliffe," He told her as he gazed down at her with pleading eyes, "Just…please remember that I'm still just Alistair. A man who was too lucky not to die along with the other Grey Wardens."

"I don't know…" She smiled up at him. "You're here with me. I think I'm the lucky one."

A warm feeling spread through his chest at her words, one he found hard to describe as he gazed down at her gentle eyes. She was definitely someone he could trust. "I can't believe I didn't tell you sooner... I feel very unworthy of those words." He then reluctantly let go. "At any rate... we should follow Teagan's advice and take a breather before tonight."

She nodded. "I agree."

Everil watched as he made for the door, opening it before glancing over his shoulder. "I'll see you later," He said with a wide smile before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

"Later..." She softly replied, her hand going up to rest upon her chest and over her racing heart. The sad look in his eyes as he spoke of his past made her see he carried a bigger burden than he let on.

xxxxxxx

The cries of the dead echoed through the night, making the men in the village shift nervously on their feet. A cloud of dust appeared upon the bridge to the village, rolling across like a mad bull.

"They're coming…" Dwyn uttered in fear, taking a step back from his position by the entrance to the town.

A hand on his armored shoulder stopped him, making him look up at the woman standing beside him.

"Those corpses are nothing but piles of rotten flesh and bone. They fall just like any other enemy," Everil uttered, her determined eyes focused on the approaching enemy.

His eyes hardened at her words, his hold on his great axe tightening as he turned an obstinate look toward the gates.

The thick fog of the night covered the path towards the village, as the sound of shuffling footsteps grew louder.

"No matter what happens, stand your ground! Take out as many as you can and don't let them reach the chantry!" Everil shouted above the increasing noise, the men around her drawing their weapons.

One walking corpse emerged from the mist, breathing it out as if it were smoke while pulling out its sword. It wore scale armor, the emblem of Redcliffe etched upon its breastplate. They were once the very soldiers who protected the village.

More corpses emerged, and the one at the front let out a powerful cry, urging the others to charge. The undead came pouring, running around the barricades towards the single opening they had created. The knights easily took out several, while Leliana and other archers fired arrows down upon them, easily hitting the mass of bodies behind the makeshift walls.

Everil took a quick glance at the sister, watching her focus only on the enemy from her perch upon the closest windmill.

As more managed to filter through, Everil drew her weapons. "Let's do this!"

"Right behind you!" Alistair shouted over the sound of battle, sword in hand as he and Magnus followed her to the mass of corpses.

Everil went in slashing, her blade pointed toward their neck. She cut through the bodies, following through as their heads rolled over the ground at her wake. The knights, Dwyin's trio and her party were effectively blocking the enemy's advance as bodies began to pile up around them. But they only had so much stamina and their arms were growing tired. Soon however, enemy numbers began to drop, with only stragglers coming in through the mist.

Everil's eyes narrowed and she spun around to the bridge connecting the village to the castle, seeing the dead were now jumping off like a waterfall, dropping into the lake below. "Blast it..." She muttered angrily as their unexpected move changed the layout of the battlefield.

One of the villagers then came up the hill from below, panting for breath. "They're coming in from the lake! We can't hold them back!"

"Knights hold this position! Dwyn, you're coming with me!" Everil shouted to the others.

The dwarf nodded and he and his men followed. Leliana made to climb off her perch when Everil pointed a finger at her, making her freeze on her tracks.

"You stay put!" She shouted at her. "I want you to shoot down anything that comes through those gates!"

Leliana nodded, watching as the female Warden ran down the path through the cliff, Alistair and the others following behind her.

When they arrived to the battle below, the enemy was already close to overwhelming the men trying to protect the chantry. Everil quickly rushed in, slicing through one of the corpses that had gotten dangerously close to the chantry doors.

"Push them back!" She pointed a finger towards the struggling villagers, commanding Dwyn and the other to assist.

They clashed against them like a stone wall, shoving the undead back behind the barricades. The archers posted on the buildings surrounding the chantry fired arrows upon the bulk of undead while the warriors cut down the rest.

It was a long, drawn out fight, but they held on until the sun's rays began to shine over the horizon. Alistair struck down the last of the corpses, and then gazed up to the sky. And upon seeing the sunrise, everyone around them cheered loudly, letting out cries of victory.

Everil huffed breathlessly, looking around to take in the damage. Most of them were left standing, with only minor scratches. She didn't know how many had perished, but considering their odds they could consider this a win.

Her knees buckled, forcing her to take a seat on the nearest crate as she let out a breath of both relief and exhaustion. Magnus walked up to her, covered in blood and gore as he gently licked her hand. She felt the corner of her lips go up, stroking the hound's ears.

"Good work."

Everil looked up to see Alistair smiling down at her, sheathing his sword as he spoke. "I don't think these people would have made it without you."

Everil let out a dry chuckle. "We did this together… all of us. But it's not over yet, we still have to get rid of whatever is causing this to happen."

"And that's something I may be able to help with," Bann Teagan said as he approached them, motioning for them to follow.

xxxxxxx

They gathered above by the windmill at the village entrance while the knights worked to clean up the mess, helped by the weary villagers. Bann Teagan led them closer to the building, speaking quietly. "There's a secret passage into the castle, one only known by me and the rest of my family. You will need my signet ring to use it."

"What?" Everil said as she raised a brow. "Why didn't you tell us about this before?"

"I am sorry, but I needed your aid. I feared that if I told you of this passage, you would not remain to help the village," He said with guilt in his eyes. "Now…we don't have much time. We should—Maker's breath!"

They all turned to a woman running up to them, followed by soldiers wearing similar armor as the undead they had just defeated.

Teagan's eyes widened. "Isolde! You're alive. I thought—"

Isolde stopped before him, reaching for his armor. "Teagan you must help me! Eamon…and Connor… my family is in danger!""

Teagan laid his hands on her shoulders, gently pushing her off him. "W-wait Isolde… we didn't even know there were survivors in the castle. What is happening in there?"

"There's no time to explain!" She said with urgency in her eyes. "You have to come with me… alone."

Everil's eyes narrowed. "No don't. This could be a trap."

Isolde turned indignant eyes towards her. "I beg your pardon? That's a rather impertinent accusation."

Everil lifted her chin. "Not if it's true."

Isolde's blue yes hardened toward her. "Who are you?"

Alistair took a step from behind Everil. "Lady Isolde… You remember me, don't you? We want to help, but we need more of an explanation."

The woman's expression darkened, casting cold eyes towards him. "Alistair… I thought you were dead. Why have you shown your face now of all times?"

Everil was instantly peeved at her insolent words, seeing her look down on him with disdain. S _o this is the arl's wife…_ She had seen glimpses of her in gatherings before, but they never actually spoke. There was something about her she didn't like, aside from the unwarranted hostility towards her friend.

And before Alistair could respond, Everil spoke coolly. "He's here because he wants to save the arl, your husband. However, I currently lead this party, which means that what I say goes. And I say that if you wish for our assistance in saving your family you might want to start changing that rude tone of yours."

The frantic woman's shaking fingers tugged a blonde strand of hair behind her ear, her perfect bun intact.

"I… I apologize, Alistair."

Alistair gave Everil a surprised glance and then shifted his attention back to the arlessa. "It's all right, my lady. Can you please tell us what's happening inside the castle?"

Isolde's eyes shifted nervously, trying to calm herself as she explained the situation. "A… a mage infiltrated the castle. He poisoned Eamon and I think he summoned whatever is haunting the castle."

"Is Arl Eamon still alive?" Everil voiced everyone's question.

Isolde nodded slowly, her brow furrowed. "That… thing is keeping him alive, but he is bedridden and unresponsive. It has kept us alive, despite killing everything else in the castle. It… has now taken an interest in my son, Connor. He is not the same he used to be..."

Everil brought a hand up to her chin, pensive. "Could this be the work of a demon? I heard mages could summon evil spirits."

This made the arlessa's expression turn to panic. "A demon!" She looked to Teagan. "Oh Maker…Teagan you must help me, please! I don't have much time! Please, it could kill my Connor!"

Teagan sighed. "Fine... I will come with you."

She brightened up. "Oh bless you Teagan! Bless you!"

He nodded. "But first allow me to talk to the Grey Wardens alone. I will join you shortly."

"All right, but please don't be long. I will be by the bridge." She said before walking away, followed by the two escorts.

Everil frowned, looking up at Teagan with concern. "I still don't think this is a good idea. You will get yourself killed."

"What choice do either of us have? Besides… I don't plan on handling this alone. You can use the secret entrance to the castle to go in unnoticed, and I will distract whatever lies inside until you arrive," He uttered, then reached into his armor, producing a ring laced with a thin golden chain. He pulled it over his head and then took her hand, placing the piece of jewelry upon her palm.

Everil looked down, her hand still trapped in his. "This is the signet ring you mentioned?"

He nodded then pulled her into a sudden hug, drawing a small gasp out of her.

Alistair's jaw tensed at the sight, his fingers curling into fists.

Everil frowned in puzzlement, her body stiff in the man's arms. "Uh... my lord?"

"I apologize. I couldn't help myself." He pulled away, giving her a flirtatious smile. "I may not live past today…so I might as well ensure I go knowing I had such a beautiful lady in my arms, if only for just a moment."

Everil blinked mutely, shock still etched upon her features. Not even Ser Gilmore had said something like that to her before. Her lips then pressed together with confidence. "I will save all of you. I promise."

Teagan smiled. "The Maker truly blessed me when he sent you to Redcliffe. I am grateful to have met you."

He walked past her and to Alistair. He patted Alistair's shoulder, whispering something as he passed him by. _"If I live, I plan to court this woman."_ He murmured with a smile _. "So keep her safe for me."_

Alistair's eyes widened and he silently turned his head as he watched Teagan walk away, seeing him disappear around the corner towards the bridge. He felt the sudden urge to tell him to keep his hands off of her, the annoyance in him puzzling him.

He knew the bann was an honorable man, the brother of a powerful Arl with influence of his own. Teagan and Everil would probably make a good match despite the wide age gap between them, and they were both of noble birth. If things had been different, her family would have no doubt preferred marrying her to a man like him, this despite his lower rank in the nobility.

That very thought just made him feel even more irritated, confusing him further.

"We should go quickly."

His head snapped in the direction of her voice, seeing her reach for the nearby door to the windmill. He sighed, mentally kicking himself into pushing aside the strange thoughts. Now was not the time for it.

They entered the building, closing the door behind them.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter VI

It was dark and damp in the tunnel, the smell of mildew filling the air. The party of four walked cautiously through the passage, Everil leading the way. It seemed this path was intended as an emergency exit, much like the one she had used to escape when Highever castle fell.

As they got closer to the castle the unearthly moans of the undead echoed through the halls, making a shiver run down her spine.

"Sounds like they're waiting for us. How nice of them," Alistair said with a small, sardonic smile on his lips.

"Maker… I still can't believe a demon could be responsible for all this," Leliana uttered nervously, "So much death… it must be quite powerful. How can we even stop something like that?"

"I have no idea. But we'll figure it out as we go along," Everil replied, a sense of dread clutching her heart. She didn't know what they were walking into, and she hated being blind.

A male's scream was then heard, piercing through the silence. They exchanged quick glances before breaking into a run, rushing towards the voice. They were soon in an underground prison, where undead soldiers were attempting to break into one of the cells.

Everil looked to her hound. "Get them boy!"

The hound charged ahead, pouncing on one of the skeletons and reaping out its head. Leliana fired an arrow, taking out another. Everil and Alistair slashed through the remaining two.

The man from within the cell stepped towards the bars, taking hold of them. "Y-you're living people… did Lady Isolde send you?"

Everil put away her weapons, taking notice of the man's robes. They were the same as those worn by the mages in Ostagar. "In a way…" She replied while approaching his cell, giving him a cold look. "Who are you? Are you the mage who caused all this?"

He shrunk away. "My name is Jowan… and as you said I am a mage. But while I know this looks bad, I'm not responsible for the corpses walking the castle. Please, you have to believe me."

Everil crossed her arms. "You have to do better than that to convince me. Now tell me... Who ordered you to poison the arl? Or are you innocent of that too?"

He gulped, looking down to the floor in shame. "I... I was ordered to kill the arl by Teyrn Loghain. You see, I'm a blood mage running from the circle. I… I knew it was wrong to tamper in forbidden magic so I wanted to find a way to help Ferelden, to atone for what I did. The teyrn said he would help save me from the templars and that I would be able to walk free after accomplishing my mission." He shook his head. "But he left me here, didn't he? How foolish of me..."

"I see..." Everil's eyes narrowed, and somehow she was not surprised by Loghain's involvement.

"A blood mage... That's a crime punishable by death," Alistair said from behind her, "Using blood enhances their magical abilities—many times more than lyrium—to the point where they can even summon and control a demon. I wouldn't be surprised if this mage was lying about the one controlling the castle."

Jowan frightened eyes shifted to him. "I admit to poisoning the arl, but I didn't summon anything! I swear! If there were anyone I think could possibly do this, it would be Connor. He may have accidentally torn the veil."

Alistair scowled. "How could Connor tear the veil? He's not a mage."

Jowan sighed, shaking his head.

Alistair's eyes grew wide. "Wait…he is, isn't he?"

Jowan tipped his head with a troubled look in his eyes. "That's how I was able to get into the castle. Lady Isolde was looking for a mage who could mentor her son, to teach him to hide his magical abilities. She didn't want anyone to know… not even Arl Eamon."

"Why not tell the arl?" Everil's brow furrowed.

"Because the arl would have done the right thing. He would have sent Connor away to the Circle of Magi, which means he would be stripped of his title… as well as his freedom." Jowan looked down to his hands, his fingers anxiously interlacing. "Lady Isolde is also a pious woman, so having a mage for a child was humiliating to her."

Everil looked at the mage for signs of deceit, but didn't see any. So far he had cooperated by answering their questions, and if he were really as much of a threat he would have probably escaped on his own by now.

"All right… I believe you. But I have a feeling that what you did to the arl is still connected to all this," Everil said as she unfolded her arms. "How will you atone for that?"

The mage gave her hopeful eyes. "I know I did something terrible, and it haunts me. Please, if you let me out I will do anything I can to make things right."

Alistair's eyes hardened. "No. That's not a good idea. This man is still a blood mage and blood mages are incredibly dangerous if left roaming around. Not to mention he poisoned the arl. At this point, I don't even think he deserves the air he breathes, let alone his freedom."

Leliana gave Alirstair a merciful look. "He knows he made a mistake. He wants to help. I believe everyone deserves a second chance."

"But we'd be risking too much. We already have to deal with whatever it is that's taken the castle." Alistair insisted.

Everil turned to them. "As much as I dislike the idea of letting him out of the cage, his help might come in handy. He knows about the magic at work here. We can use that knowledge against it."

"If you let me out… I will not follow you directly, I am in no condition to fight. But I will help as much as I can from afar. I can look for survivors too... even help against that demon somehow." He said quietly, his eyes begging.

Everil turned to Alistair with an apologetic gaze. "Alistair… I know you're angry, but you'll just have to trust me on this one."

Alistair let out a breath through his nose, disliking the idea and yet knowing she wouldn't willingly put them in danger without good reason. He turned to the mage, pinning him with suspicious glare. "Fine. But if he gives me even the smallest indication that he'll turn on us, I will run him through myself."

"I understand," Everil said, acknowledging the edge in his voice. She then reached for the cage, lock picking it. "You heard the man. Try not to do anything stupid. We don't need things to get any worse, and I am certain you don't want a sword through your gut either."

The mage gave them a grateful and a weak smile. "I understand. You have my word."

They left the mage to collect himself, heading ahead towards the center of the castle. Undead waited for them inside, crowding the halls as the group made their way up from the basement to the service wing. The stench of death and decay permeated the air, making it hard to breathe without their stomachs churning.

They swept the rooms, looking for survivors as they went, only to find nothing but more walking corpses. They were beginning to think there were none, when a loud scream pierced their ears. Everil winced, almost closing the door to block the sharp noise.

"Please don't kill me!"

She slowly opened it, finding a blond woman in the small storage room, cowering in a corner.

Leliana walked past her, kneeling beside the girl with a reassuring smile upon her face. "We won't hurt you. You can calm down now. What's your name?"

The woman visibly relaxed, tears running down her cheeks. "Valena..."

"The smithy's daughter." Everil uttered with a subtle breath of relief.

Valena looked to the Warden. "Y-you know my father?"

Everil smiled. "He's waiting for you back home. You should go to him."

"But…those monsters are everywhere. I won't make it." She looked down at her skirt, her hands shaking.

Leliana took them in hers. "We killed most of them. You will make it out. Trust in the Maker."

Her words gave the woman courage, and she gave the sister a firm nod. "I…I can run fast and I know the castle. I can do it."

"Just follow the path of corpses we left behind. That should tell you which areas are safe," Everil added, stepping aside for her to walk through the door.

"Got it." Valena gave them a grateful smile."Thank you."

They found no more survivors on their way, which meant the casualties were much greater than they had anticipated. Everil and the rest of the group approached the castle's first floor, coming up from a rounded staircase.

The atmosphere suddenly got colder, as if death itself loomed over them. The sound of a laughing child travelled through the chilling air, but although it could be a survivor, the three could hear a menacing tune behind the seemingly innocent giggles.

Everil felt her heart begin to race, telling her not to continue, to run away. She set her jaw and reached for the door to the castle's courtyard and main entrance. Everything was dead still, not even the grass dared move. They looked up to the staircase leading to the castle gates, from which laughter continued to echo. She moved first, taking tentative steps up the stairs as the others followed.

She and Alistair pushed the heavy doors open, and their eyes widened at what they saw behind them. Bann Teagan was performing tricks, flipping and dancing before a child who clapped excitedly at the show. Isolde stood beside said child, guilt etched over her features as she also watched the man ridicule himself before his audience.

It was a surreal sight...

Everil walked up to them, stopping just steps from the bann. "Bann Teagan?" She uttered, receiving nothing.

Alistair and Leliana stood beside her, a mix of confusion and fear upon their features.

The bann turned and laughed maniacally at them, only to quickly run to sit beside the boy standing before the large fireplace. And they found that despite the burning flames in the room, the air was still eerily frigid.

The kid focused his attention on Everil, his eyes darkening. "So you're the rat who has been meddling in my affairs. That village was my playground, yet you dared take it away from me."

"Maker... He's possessed. He's the one doing all this," Alistair whispered, his hands closing into fists.

Connor's childish voice carried with it a second, much darker one. One that was not human. "What is it Mother? I can't see it clearly."

Isolde turned to her son, shoulders sunken as if she were ready to fall apart. "That is... a woman Connor. Like me."

The boy laughed at his mother's words, then his eyes narrowed as if able to focus. "She's nothing like you, Mother. Look at her! Half your age, and pretty too! I'm surprised you don't order to have her executed in a fit of jealousy."

Everil pinned the boy with a fearless glare. "How dare you do this to a child, demon?"

"I ask the questions around here, woman." He smirked, meeting her gaze. "Why are you here? Why are you ruining my fun? This has nothing to do with you."

"I came to stop you." She replied without hesitation.

Connor shook his head angrily. "No. You can't stop me. I want you to leave this place. Leave me to my fun."

Her eyes narrowed as she drew her blade. "Not a chance, demon. I'll make you pay for what you've done to these people."

"Everil?" Alistair uttered in disbelief, stunned at how easily she pulled her weapon on a kid. Leliana eyed her with the same scrutiny, eyes wide with shock.

"No please!" Isolde stepped between her son and the Grey Warden, arms spread wide to shield him. "Please Warden. He does not know what he does! He's just a boy!"

"You didn't see the fear and suffering on their faces. You didn't hear the agonizing cries for their dead. This creature nearly wiped out the village—your people!" Everil countered angrily, taking a step towards her. "That thing is no longer your son. Now move aside."

"You would kill a child?" Connor cackled in amusement, his eyes glowing as the dead soldiers around them rose up. "We shall see about that."

Bann Teagan drew his sword, charging at her. She quickly blocked, the force of the hit making her take several steps back, distancing her from her target. He swung at her again, his eyes reflecting nothing but madness. She ducked, avoiding a sideward slash, then kicked him off his feet.

Alistair blocked a hit from one of the dead soldiers, recognizing them from their brief encounter before the bann was taken into the castle. He sliced through one of them, cutting off his legs. It fell on its back, unable to move.

Leliana sidestepped, dodging a downward strike, only to bury her double daggers on the corpse's neck and slice it off its body. Blood splashed on her leather armor, painting it red.

Magnus growled and jumped behind one of the corpses, biting at its jugular as it tried to pry him off. The hound's chops closed all the way, breaking its neck as it slowly dropped.

"Damn it, wake up Bann Teagan!" Everil got pushed back again, trying not to hurt the man currently being controlled by his nephew. But no matter how much she yelled, there was no reaction. She bit her lip and blocked his sword again, though this time she stepped aside, pivoted on one foot and kicked his back, sending him head first onto a decorative piece of armor. She then quickly turned, rushing towards the kid. Lady Isolde stepped between them, only to be shoved aside unceremoniously by her son.

"Come!" Connor shouted, a sadistic sneer contorting his face. "Kill me!"

Everil narrowed her eyes as she charged. This demon caused all the tragedy. She had to end it, for everyone's sake.

He clawed at her and she dodged before suddenly being thrown back like a rag doll by an invisible force, her body flying several feet and hitting a wall.

Alistair made to help, but an armored arm wrapped around his neck, holding him back. "Teagan! Let go of me, damn it!"

The bann said nothing, his hold tightening to the point it was hard to breathe. Leliana was grabbed and thrown against a wall by some of the remaining dead, pinning her to the wall with their bodies. Magnus was held down by several corpses, barking madly as it tried to use his massive muscles to pry them off.

Everil pushed herself up to her knees with a grunt. Connor closed in with inhuman speed, his claws swiping at her again as she was forced to roll out of the way and onto her feet as she brought up her weapons. She stepped back, trying to put some distance between them, but he came after her then, his claws raised high.

Her lips pressed together in determination as she waited for sidestepped, then tackled him as she avoided the claws, dropping him on his back and pinning him to the ground a she knelt over him.

"No!" Lady Isolde cried, eyes wide in terror.

Everil glared down at the child and raised her weapon.

"Everil! Don't!"

Alistair's voice made her freeze mid-strike, her eyes widening in shock as she noticed the look the boy was giving her. Connor gazed up at her as if she herself was the monster, tears rolling down his eyes as he quivered beneath her.

Suddenly the image of her dead nephew crawled into her mind, making her heart twist with both guilt and pain. Her armed arm grew weak along with her resolve, and she felt the familiar knot form within her throat as she slowly lowered her weapon.

The boy's eyes darkened. "I knew you couldn't do it."

Everil's eyes widened and in a swift move Connor took hold of a nearby blade and swung at her unguarded form.

Then her blood sprayed the stone floors.

Leliana gasped, bringing a hand to cover her mouth.

"Everil!" Alistair called out as his wide eyes watched from behind, a deep feeling of dread clutching at his chest at the sight before him.

Connor shoved her off him, lifting himself up and gazing down at Everil's stunned expression. "Mother… You are now nearly as beautiful as she. Though you're not quite there yet," He mocked, his sword dripping blood as a sadistic smile spread over his youthful features. "Allow me to correct that. I will execute her for you."

"Connor don't do this..."Isolde pleaded weakly, tears running down her face.

But raised his weapon. And as his blade came down, Everil reacted, blocking the attack with her sword as she stood. She shoved his knife aside, taking him by surprise. She then swung her hand for a backhanded slap, hitting him across the face so hard it sent him tumbling to the side. She looked down at him coldly, ignoring the blood streaming freely down the side of her face before she then shifted her sharp eyes to Isolde. The woman could only stare back in fear.

"What are you waiting for?" Everil said sternly, "Bind him before he wakes."

The arlessa nodded shakily, rushing to her son's side. As if in a domino effect, the undead dropped to the floor, then slowly the bann let go of Alistair.

"W-what?" Teagan looked down at his hands, a bewildered look in his eyes.

Alistair didn't stop to explain, rushing to his fellow Warden's side as she sheathed her weapon. "H-hey, are you—"

He paused when she turned to look at him, a pang of guilt stabbing his heart. A grisly gash trailed accross the side of her face, bleeding profusely while staining her neck and chest plate a crimson color. There was no way that wouldn't leave a scar.

Leliana walked up to her, a torn piece of cloth in her hand as she poured a red potion into it, a liquid meant to stop the bleeding. "Here…you're making a mess." She brought it up to the injury with a kind smile.

Everil took it, a corner of her lip going up. "Thank you."

Teagan approached them with a remorseful look, his hand stretching to touch hers. "I am sorry… I couldn't… My lady, are you all right?"

Alistair stepped between them, irritation in his eyes. "She's fine, Teagan. You might want to go help Lady Isolde. Connor won't be out for long."

"Oh…of course." Teagan's brow furrowed, walking around them to help the woman currently cradling her son.

After they effectively bound the possessed child to his bed, the group gathered in the room.

"What do we do now?" Teagan asked worriedly as he crossed his arms.

Everil turned to her fellow Warden, still pressing the rag to her face. "Alistair, what do you suggest?"

"As far as I know… The only way to defeat an abomination is to kill the mage," He uttered somberly. "Not much of an option though, if you ask me."

"That's not the only way."

The group turned to Jowan as he stepped into the room. Lady Isolde instantly stiffened, eyes regarding the mage with hate. "What's the meaning of this! You were supposed to be jailed!"

"I let him out," Everil told them casually, her words drawing a glare from her.

Teagan eyed him wearily. "Who is that? Is he the mage you mentioned?"

"Yes. He's the bastard who poisoned my husband and started all this," Isolde bit out bitterly.

Everil scoffed. "You brought him in to teach Connor in secret, in order to hide he was a mage. You wanted to protect Connor so badly that you even lied to your own husband. Do not play innocent. This is also your fault."

Teagan looked at Isolde with muted shock.

"H-How dare you! You dare accuse me of what's happened to my husband…to my son!" Isolde's voice raised a few decibels.

Teagan scowled at her. "Enough! Isolde, she's right. You may not have intended for this to happen, but your secrecy is also to blame. Your actions allowed the mage to infiltrate the castle in the first place."

Isolde bit het lip, shrinking away from Teagan's critical eyes.

Jowan raised his hands, attempting to ease the rising tension. "What I did was… unforgivable. But I want to make this right. Please let me."

Teagan nodded. "We can't turn away help now. What do you suggest we do about Connor?"

Jowan eyed them warily, nervously rubbing his fingers. "A mage can go into the Fade and kill the demon directly, this will release the host from its hold."

Isolde's expression lightened. "So there's a way to kill that thing without hurting my boy?"

"Yes but…" Jowan hesitated. "That requires an amount of lyrium we don't have, as well as several mages. But I'm a… blood mage. I can use blood instead of lyrium to perform spells. However, a powerful spell like this one would require a lot of it… all of it, in fact."

"So someone has to be sacrafised?" Teagan said with a troubled look.

"I know that's not much of an option..."

Everil shook her head. "No. Not an option at all."

"I say we do it. I volunteer."

They turned their stunned eyes to Isolde.

"What? Isolde, are you mad! Eamon would never allow this!" Teagan said with a disapproving glare.

Isolde lifted her chin defiantly. "I don't see what is so hard to understand. A mother's life in exchange for her own flesh and blood. To me the choice is clear."

Alistair shook his head, sickened by the conversation. "I don't like this… How could more evil solve the problem? Two wrongs don't make a right."

"There will be no sacrifices. We find another way." Everil said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

"But without lyrium…" Jowan sighed.

"The Circle of Magi would be the only likely place to have that amount of lyrium." Alistair offered.

This piqued her attention, and Everil turned eyes to him. "The Circle is not far, and we need to seek their support regardless. Perhaps we can kill two birds with one stone."

He felt a little relieved at her words. "That does sound like a great idea."

"We leave immediately." She said, then turned to the mage. "Jowan you should stay here. If there is a way to keep Connor asleep until we return, use it."

"I think I know a spell that can do that." He replied with a shaky dip of his head.

"Good. We will make haste and make it back as soon as possible." She turned to leave.

"Lady Everil."

She craned her head towards Teagan, who stared back with a sullen expression. "I know it's not over yet, but you have kept us alive, as you promised. You have my gratitude."

She nodded mutely, a small smile upon her lips before they left the room and made their way out of the castle.

xxxxxxx

"Ow!" Everil winced, etching away from Morrigan's rough hands. "Will you stop torturing me?"

"Stay still and 'twill not hurt. 'Tis as simple as that." Morrigan smeared more of the paste she had concocted onto her cheek, the muddy smell overwhelming her nostrils.

"Are you certain you'are not doing this to get back at me for not bringing you along?" Everil asked, at which Morrigan pressed her fingers against her wound, drawing yet another yelp from her.

"Hmph perhaps I am, foolish girl." The temperamental witch chided her. "Had you not doubted my abilities to thwart the templars, I may have been able to immobilize that demon-child and he would not have mangled your face as he did."

"You don't know that…" Everil muttered under her breath, suddenly feeling as if Fergus were the one scolding her.

Night had fallen on their way to Lake Calenhad, where the Circle of Magi was located. A fire burned in the middle of their camp, illuminating the surroundings as the two women sat by it, Morrigan using the light as she worked.

Leliana had gone hunting for their food, along with Magnus, who had somehow grown to be friends with the nun. Sten did as he always did: Stand at the far edge of camp, doing his best to ignore their presence, saving his few words for when one of them would walk up to pester him.

"You are fortunate my mother taught me a few things about healing and herbs, otherwise this cut of yours would have turned into a much more unsightly scar," Morrigan uttered irritably, wiping away the paste with a clean, wet cloth.

Approaching footsteps made the two look up to see Alistair walking up to them, a concerned look in his eyes.

"Ah look who's here! Tremendous work with that abomination, ser templar," Morrigan said mockingly, a cynical smile on her lips.

He scowled at her, crossing his arms as he came to a stop beside them. "I'm not in the mood. How is she?"

Morrigan stood, the bowl of paste and bloody rag in her hands. "'Tis not infected and it is already healing. By what I heard, she is quite lucky."

"You guys are making a bigger deal out of this than I," Everil uttered, gazing at the fire.

"If that demon had wished to kill you all it had to do was cut a little lower," Morrigan said with a scowl.

"Then why didn't it?" Everil raised a brow.

"You said you saw a glimpse of humanity in the boy before it happened. Perhaps some still remained," Morrigan said quietly and then turned to leave. "Now if I am no longer needed I shall go prepare for tomorrow's travels."

After the witch was gone, Alistair took a seat next to his fellow Warden, propping up an arm on his knee. "Are you sure you're all right?"

She chuckled. "It's just a flesh would. I'm not about to bleed to death. Leliana and Morrigan made sure of that."

"Ah... good," He uttered awkwardly before a sigh escaped his lips. He then turned his troubled gaze to the flames. Silence stretched between them for a moment, Alistair seemingly deep in thought. She gazed at his profile, admiring how the flames reflected over his eyes.

"Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?" She suddenly asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Her unexpected words drew his attention, heat rising to his cheeks as he felt himself smile at her. "Uhm... not by a woman as beautiful as you."

She felt her heart skip at the complement. "You think I'm beautiful?"

"Of course you are, and you know it. You're beautiful, resourceful and all those other things you would probably hurt me for not saying."

She laughed lightly, her eyes softening. "Oh I would never hurt you."

He chuckled. "I don't know. I've seen what you do to people who make you angry. And I'm pretty good at getting on people's bad sides."

"Well so far you're on my good side. So you have nothing to worry about."

"I'm glad to hear that."

There was a pause as he turned to the fire once more. She looked down at her hands, absently plucking blades of grass from the ground next to her. For some reason his close proximity and the comfortable silence between them was making her feel a little bashful, which was unusual for her.

"You could have died today because of me," He said softly, guilt painting his voice, "If I hadn't stopped you like that..."

"I would have killed a child and regretted it for the rest of my life," She uttered over the crackling of the fire, "I was too focused on saving what was left of the village to realize Connor also needed saving. You did the right thing."

"But..." He said as he watched her twirl the blade of grass between her fingers, her eyes turning away from his.

"Alistair, this is not your fault. It's mine. I was reckless." She sighed. "That mistake has left me with a constant reminder that I have to control my emotions during battle and look at every possible scenario before making rash decisions."

He frowned, seeing her reach for her cheek, only for her hand to drop to her lap once more.

"At least you said I'm beautiful," She murmured, almost too quietly for him to hear.

A soft touch made her turn her head in surprise, as his hand came to rest on the tarnished side of her face. He captured her eyes in an instant, and he intently stared down into their cerulean depths, taking her breath away.

"I didn't just say it… I meant every word." He murmured as his thumb gently stroked the edge of the deep gash, leaving behind a tingling sensation. "You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever met."

Those amber pools drew her in, reminding her of warm honey as butterflies fluttered in her stomach and her heart raced within chest.

"Alistair..." She breathed.

And he began to lean in, his lips slowly closer to hers as the urge to close the distance became almost overwhelming. She could feel his warm breath caressing her lips, their noses touching and then...

"Food is here!"

They pulled apart as if they had been burned, their faces flaring as they looked away from each other. Leliana's footsteps grew louder as she returned to camp, bringing with her a pair of dead hares for their dinner. Magnus rushed towards Everil, panting out of breath after the hunt.

She stroked his head gently, sympathizing with him as she struggled to regain her own ability to breathe.

They played it off as if nothing happened, trying not to let the others see. But little did they know that a mildly amused witch had been watching all along.

xxxxxxx

He was falling for her.

That would be the only explanation to whatever it was possessed him to almost kiss her the night before. The only reason why he had been so eager to taste those rosy, perfectly rounded lips of hers. He shook his head, trying to dispel the tempting image.

But was it love? He wasn't sure. He had never experienced romantic feelings towards anyone. All he knew was that he now thought of her differently. That she was no longer just a friend, his leader or a sister of the order in his eyes.

She was a woman. A woman he was beginning to want. And someone he was growing to care for in more ways than one.

"What do you mean you won't take us to the tower? I demand an explanation!"

And right now the object of his affections was staring down a templar in plated armor, a warrior who carried a sword bigger than she.

That was another thing he found himself drawn to: Her fiery personality.

"I said I had orders not to let anyone reach the tower at this time. Are you deaf?"

She stubbornly folded her arms. "We are Grey Wardens and we are in need of help from the mages. Now take us to the tower or I will make sure you regret ever crossing my path."

"Oh threats now, huh?" The young templar matched her glare, refusing to back down. "How do I know you're Grey Wardens, eh? You think that just because you're wearing the armor I'll believe everything you say? Show me proof, then we'll talk."

"Such impertinence," Morrigan muttered heatedly, her eyes narrowing. "This man is testing my patience. He should be pushed into the lake and left to drown."

Alistair lifted a brow. "Isn't that a little extreme?"

"He is blocking our advance when we have a Blight to stop and a possessed child aiming to slaughter an entire village. I would say one templar's life is meaningless in comparison."

"Are you sure you're not just saying that because you hate them?"

"Yes. I suppose you could use that too."

Everil scowled. "I don't have to prove anything to you."

"Oh so now I'm not good enough to you? See how you get across now."

Alistair took a step, standing behind her as he gave the knight a friendly smile. "Hey…tell me something. What would your Knight Commander say if he were to find out you kept Grey Wardens out of the Circle during a Blight?"

They watched the templar's expression slowly change to fear as his brain processed his words.

Everil smiled. "He would not like it, would he?"

He shifted nervously, finding himself defeated. "No he would not… fine you win. I will take you across. But I can only take three people at a time. Your hound may fit in the boat too."

"Good. Hold a moment." She turned to her party, motioning for them to follow her outside of the templar's ear range.

She looked to the witch. "Morrigan… you said you have business inside, you're coming with me. That and I learned my lesson last time I questioned your abilities against the templars."

Morrigan smiled triumphantly at her. "I am pleased to hear that."

Everil frowned quizzically. "What are you hoping to find in there, anyway?"

"If I find it, I shall tell you. 'Tis a tool we may be able to use to our advantage."

"Is it dangerous?"

The witch smirked. "Not if in the right hands. And, fortunately for you, mine are quite capable."

She nodded. "Very well. I trust you."

She then shifted her gaze to her fellow Warden, her down-to-business expression softening at the goofy grin he was giving her.

"I'm going too, right?" He pleaded playfully. "Oh please pick me!"

She rolled her eyes with a smile. "Yes, you can come along too."

"Yes! Hah I win!" Alistair waved jokingly at Sten and Leliana. The nun pouted back at him in dismay, while Sten seemed to be ignoring him, looking around the lakeside with his usual severe look.

The group set out across the lake, leaving the two on the shoreline. Leliana sighed, not exactly thrilled at being left behind. They had heard rumors on their way to the lake that something was happening in the Circle, but nothing clear.

She clasped her hands together, silently praying to the Maker for the group to return safely.

"Hmm."

Leliana looked up to the qunari. He kept turning his head in every direction, taking a step as he eyed the lakeside.

She frowned worriedly. "You look like you're looking for something."

Sten turned his gaze down to the redhead. "I am."

"What is it? I might be able to help you."

"My sword."

She blinked as her eyebrows shot up. "It's on your back."

He let out a grunt. "Not this sword. My sword."

"Uhm… But isn't that your sword?" She muttered in puzzlement.

"No. This sword is not my sword."

Leliana reached for her head, the conversation making her brain begin to ache.

xxxxxxx

The doors to the tower opened, revealing the beaten bodies of the templars. Some lay bloodied upon the floor, treating their wounds. One sat in a corner, rocking back and forth as he held his head, muttering something about the many dead and dying.

"What...happened here?" Alistair took tentative steps forward, eyes taking in the miserable scene before them.

"Grey Wardens. Welcome to the Circle of Ferelden... Or what's left of it."

A man with a graying beard met them halfway into the hall, his armor carrying the symbol of the Templar Order.

"My name is Gregoir, Knight Commander of this Circle." He reached out to shake her hand, then Alistair's. He paused as he looked to Morrigan, who ignored the handshake with a silent nod.

He shook it off, and then returned his attention to the one leading the group. "I'm sure you were told we are in no condition to receive visitors. Whatever brings you to the Circle must be important enough to ignore this."

"We seek the aid of the mages to battle the Blight." Everil went straight to the point.

Gregoir let out a breath and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I tire of the Grey Wardens' constant need for help against the darkspawn, but it is your right. Unfortunately the Circle cannot offer any mages at this time... it has been taken over by abominations."

"Well that puts a damper on things." Alistair said as he folded his arms.

Yet another problem they needed to solve. For some reason everything in Ferelden seemed to be falling apart, and Everil had a feeling Loghain had something to do with the situation in the circle too. She pressed her lips into a thin line. _I_ _suppose we'll find out soon enough._ She thought to herself.

"We barred the great doors to keep them in. They will block any magic or demons trying to get out." He motioned for the giant metal doors at the corner of the hall, arcane symbols covering every inch of it. "I have called upon the Right of Annulment. Reinforcements from Denerim should be here soon."

"What is the Right of Annulment?" Everil inquired.

"It's a mandate to eradicate all mages in a Circle of Magi. Which means the Chantry will send an army of templars to kill pretty much everything inside the tower." Alistair answered for her.

"That is correct." Gregoir affirmed quietly, a guilt-ridden look upon his aging features.

"What?" Her eyes widened, and she then turned to Gregoir. "What about the survivors?"

"Whatever magic they used, they've torn the veil. You didn't see the halls filled with those monsters… demons crawling out of every corner. Possessed mages killing other mages. If there were any survivors they would have perished by now." He shook his head somberly. "What you see here is what is left of my templars. We had a small army, now we're down to a handful. That should tell you how dire the situation is."

She scowled. "You locked them in didn't you? You didn't even wait to see if any mages followed."

"You're accusing me of leaving them for dead?" His eyes darkened. "I already explained the situation to you. Hoping for survivors is far too painful! It's best to end it now and stop their suffering."

Alistair placed a hand on her shoulder. "I hate to say this, but he's right. It's impossible that they—"

"We won't abandon them." Everil said, her tone final.

Alistair froze under her disappointed eyes, swallowing his words with regret. She was not brought up to doubt mages as he was. By the few stories Duncan told of his homeland, she was the daughter of a just lord. A man who probably taught her to think for herself, treasure allies and care for her people.

The mages had sworn their aid to the Grey Wardens. They had in fact come to the Circle to demand of them great sacrifice. In her eyes, it was probably fair to lend them aid in their time of need. And he was beginning to understand that himself.

"Let us in." She told the templar.

The older man looked at her as if she had grown an extra head. "Are you…? Let me tell you, an abomination is not something to be taken lightly."

"Just open the doors. Time's wasting." She insisted, sharp blue eyes meeting his.

"Fine." He sighed, too worn out to argue. "But once you step inside we will bar the doors, and they shall remain closed unless First Enchanter Irving himself tells me the Circle is restored."

She walked past him, followed by Alistair and Morrigan. The templars guarding the doors pushed them open upon their commander's nod of approval. One shook his head as he closed the door behind them, mumbling 'hopeless' under his breath.

Morrigan chuckled, looking at their leader with an almost cynical smile. "Ahh here we are again… undertaking yet another impossible task. I wondered if you would make the smart choice and seek an alternative route, to leave these poor fools to their fate."

"You don't seem to know me well enough yet, Morrigan. Maybe we should talk more often." Everil replied with a cocky grin.

The witch turned her amber eyes away, arrogantly lifting her chin. "Indeed."

As they walked through the halls the picture the Knight Commander had painted for them made perfect sense. It was dead silent. Mangled and bloodied bodies lay on the floors, positioned in a way that told them they had been trying to run away from something when they died.

Everil walked into the nearest room, where numerous beds were lined up against the walls. "Let's split up and quickly search the rooms for anything of importance. If we are to help we might as well learn how all this happened. Also pick up useful items along the way."

Both companions nodded in agreement, walking in opposite directions. They searched chests, drawers and armoires, looking for anything of value. It felt strange to rummage through the belongings of apparently innocent victims, but perhaps what they found would help take back the circle and prevent a repeat of the tragedy.

Alistair looked up from one of the letters, waving them over. "I found something." He stood from his kneeling position by a chest, handing Everil the paper. "These mages were experimenting with blood magic."

She frowned, looking over the written words. It seemed they had been secretly communicating their findings and performing forbidden magic behind closed doors.

There were many things about the relationship between mages and the Chantry she was beginning to understand. The Chantry had taught them mages were both powerful and dangerous people, whose talents were bestowed upon them by the Maker himself to serve man. Talent once used as tools of oppression. The Tevinter Imperium, a nation of mages still standing today, once governed all by using their magic to enslave the world. Until Andraste waged war against them.

The struggle between Andraste, the Maker's chosen mortal wife, against the Imperium was actually the very foundation of the Chantry's teachings. And Andrastian faith was the predominant religion in Ferelden. Which meant most were afraid of mages and their abilities. Their alleged susceptibility to possession also added to people's doubts. Which made it seem necessary to control them.

Thus why the Circles were built. They were secluded places to house the magically gifted, constantly guarded by the Chantry's templars. They were intended to teach the mages how to use their power safely and responsibly. But there was always a thin line between shelter and imprisonment.

She looked up to her companions. "You think blood magic has something to do with this?"

"I think so. Blood magic can be used to summon demons. Maybe that's why there's abomination roaming around, as Gregoir told us." Replied Alistair, an uncomfortable look on his face.

Morrigan crossed her arms. "'Perhaps we should be asking ourselves why so many were using blood magic in the first place, and working together while doing so. 'Tis possible there is more going on here than a few spells gone array. "

"Agreed." Everil stashed the letters in her bag. "Let's keep moving."

The three headed out of the dorms and towards the next door, stepping around the bodies they came a cross.

A charge in the air made them pause by a door. Someone on the other side was using magic, as the sound of a growl echoed from within. The group drew their weapons as Everil cautiously opened the door.

A group of mages stood in the room, fighting what looked to be a demon. It was made out of something hot, flames covering its body as in nightmares. The older mage set off a spell that encrusted the creature in ice, only to shatter it, killing it in an instant.

The children nearby hugged each other, crying as a younger mage reached down to console them.

"Wynne?"

The old mage quickly faced Everil, hands around her staff as she blocked her charges with her body. She promptly recognized Everil, but her defensive posture did not waver.

"It's you! You... Survived Ostagar?"

"I could say the same about you. I see you returned to the Circle afterwards," Everil said and she put away her weapons.

The old woman narrowed her eyes. "I-I am sorry if I am not quick to trust, but I have people to protect. Please do not move. Why are you here?"

"We came seeking the mages for the fight against the Blight. With the king and the other Grey Wardens dead, we are in dire need of aid," Everil replied solemnly.

"And you were no doubt told the Circle was in no shape to help." She relaxed, her brow furrowing. "The templars locked the only way out, trapping us inside. Gregoir probably thinks us all dead. Yet here you are. Why is that?"

"Gregoir has called upon the Right of Annulment. I convinced him to let me help."

The old woman took in a breath. "So he does assume we have all perished. The templars will be here at any moment. We have to search for survivors and leave at once."

She shook her head. "He will only open the door if the First Enchanter says it is safe."

"Then our path has been laid out before us." She sighed. "We need to save Irvin and restore the Circle."

"I cannot believe it. These mages choose this life? To be captives under their templar overlords," Morrigan uttered in disgust, "Their jailers have chosen to give them death. I say let them have it."

Everil turned to her. "Would you think the same had your life been different? If you and your mother were in a different situation?"

Morrigan seemed to take in her words, her eyes narrowing. "You say that I would be here now had things not been as they are? Hmph… mother always told me things are as they are because there is no other way. I always doubted this." She looked away, waving her off. "Fine. Do as you wish. I care not."

Everil smiled. "Thank you, Morrigan."

The Warden then turned to Wynne. "We should hurry. We've already lost enough time."

She nodded. "Understood."

The four of them neared a barrier Wynne had conjured, blocking the door toward the rest of the tower. Wynne told the younger mages to care for the children in her absence. And with a confident look to the Warden, she broke down the barrier.

The stench of burnt flesh and blood quickly saturated the air as they stepped to the other side of the barrier, making her stomach turn. The carnage at this side of the hall was worse, with charred and mangled bodies crowding the path. The dimly lit torches cast ominous shadows upon the walls, while the sound of distant whispers spoken in foreign tongue traveled into their ears.

Everil drew her weapons and the others followed suit as they walked with caution.

"This is the junior apprentice wing," Wynne uttered behind them, "These were the youngest of the mages in the circle. We... lost so many of them when this started. The children you saw with me outside were the only ones left."

Everil's heart wrenched as the bodies of children lay in a heap in one of the rooms, all with horrified expressions staring up at her. She tightened her grip on her blades.

"Better they die now than live in a cage for the rest of their lives." Morrigan commented dryly.

"How can you say such a thing? Even now as you see how much pain magic can cause." Wynne said, giving Morrigan a dismayed look.

Morrigan ignored her, arms crossed over her chest.

Alistair put a hand on the old mage's shoulder. "Might as well get used to the witch's cold tongue. You'll hear a lot more from it soon."

"A witch?" Wynne's brows shot up. "This woman is an apostate?"

"Wynne."

The old woman turned her eyes towards Everil, who remained with her back to them, gazing at the pile of small bodies as she spoke. "Do you know how all this happened?"

She shook her head. "I heard there were many young mages dabbling in the dark arts of blood magic. Uldred, a senior Enchanter within the circle, seems to be involved in it all. I believe this was a planned attack against the Circle, but I do not know the details."

A loud growl interrupted their conversation and Everil narrowed her eyes as something barely human in appearance slowly rose from within the pile of small bodies. Upon its body hung torn robes, its skin skewed and bloated underneath.

Everil took a step back. It was almost as horrifying as the darkspawn.

It quickly began to chant, its distorted voice resonating in the silent room.

"Watch out!" Alistair shouted, grabbing Wynne by the waist as the group ran in opposite directions.

A blast of heat and fire suddenly lit up the room, raging like an inferno as it charred anything in its path. The force of the flaming whirlwind slammed beds and dressers against walls and other objects, shattering or warping them in an instant.

One hit too close to Morrigan as she, Everil and her hound took cover behind a wall. She covered her face, blocking the burning splinters that flew at them.

Alistair and Wynne ducked behind a large crate on the other side of the room. His arm wrapped around the old woman's shoulders as he shielded her from the debris.

As the storm of fire died down, Alistair drew his blade and shield, looking over the crate. They had to cut it down quickly and conserve energy for those to come.

"Everil!" He called from the other side of the room. "We have to flank this thing and end it quickly!"

"Agreed!"

He turned to Wynne. "Can you cast that ice spell from earlier?"

She nodded. "Of course."

"Good! Do it just before we close in on it."

It roared, taking a step over the dead as fire swirled around it. "Come out, mortals! I shall burn you to a crisp and feast upon your soul!"

"Now!" Alistair jumped over his hiding spot, charging towards the abomination head on with his shield ready.

Everil ran the length of the wall separating the room, rushing the creature from behind. Wynne then finished her enchantment, encrusting it in ice before the two Wardens split it in half with their blades. It shattered into pieces, the crystals littering the ground before melting into chunks of flesh.

"That was too close for comfort." Everil wiped sweat from her chin with the back of her hand, accidentally smearing zoot on her skin.

Alistair sheathed his sword, grimly looking at the devastation left in the room as minor fires raged around them. "We should probably try to avoid fighting them and leave them to the templars."

"I agree." She nodded. "All right… we still have a lot of ground to cover. Let's keep moving."

With the abomination dead, they made their way up to the second floor, trying to avoid further confrontations along the way. They soon reached another seemingly desolate hall, the silence nearly overwhelming.

Movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention.

"Who goes there?" Everil called, cautiously making her way towards it as the others followed.

They arrived to a room filled with strange artifacts, but the mystifying atmosphere was quickly ruined by the burned bodies and severed limbs lying on the floors. She grimaced at the sight, before her eyes landed upon a single mage standing in the room.

"Welcome to the Circle's stockroom of magical items. My name is Owain. Please ignore the poor state of the room. I have not finished cleaning duties."

"Owain! I am so glad to you see you yet live." Wynne approached the man, wrapping her arms around him. The mage did not reciprocate the hug, his features devoid of emotions.

"The demons could not see me. The others were not fortunate," He replied with a monotone voice.

Everil raised a brow at this. There was death and destruction around him, but he didn't seem to care. "Why are you here? Why did you not try to escape?" She stepped closer, noticing the strange symbol etched upon his forehead.

He turned lifeless eyes to her. "There was a magical barrier blocking the way. So I found it necessary to return to the stockroom and begin cleaning duties."

Wynne frowned. "Owain, you should have said something. I would have brought down the barrier for you."

"The stockroom is familiar."

Everil cast curious eyes to Wynne. "Why is he responding in monotone? Is he all right?"

"He is one of the tranquil: Mages whose magical abilities were taken away to protect them and others around them. Magic is tied to our feelings and our dreams… to our connection to the fade. By stripping a mage of these things you also take away their ability to cast spells," Wynne said with a sad look in her eye.

Morrigan gave the woman a disgusted look. "You would do this to one of your own?"

Wynne shook her head. "It is the only way to avoid tragedies like these while also saving the mage's life."

"And I can see how well that worked out… This here is the reason why I dislike you Circle mages. I would have rather died than be turned into this," Morrigan said with disdain, motioning to the tranquil.

"What makes them decide if it's necessary to turn a mage tranquil?" Everil asked quietly, drawing Wynne's attention away from her irritated friend.

"There are various factors… if a mage fails to demonstrate control over their talents after a certain amount of training, if they are prone to rebellion against the Circle's teachings or tamper with forbidden arts. They are also turned tranquil if they do not wish to undertake the Horrowing." Wynne said with a solemn expression.

"What is a Horrowing?" Everil inquired further.

"It's a test mages have to take in order to prove they aren't prone to demonic possession," Alistair answered for her. "Templars send a mage into the fade and pit them against a demon. If they become possessed then the templars are forced to kill them, but if they defeat the demon then they are allowed to live and continue practicing magic. It's similar to our Joining Ritual, in a way."

"I see…" She said. "I take it you witnessed a Harrowing before, then?"

"I did. The mage ended up becoming possessed. We had to end it quickly… and let me just say I wasn't all that interested in becoming a Templar after that," He responded, a slightly perturbed look on his face.

Everil's eyes shifted to the tranquil, who stared at her with an unnerving blank expression. "I have to agree with Morrigan then. There is no mercy in this. He is simply kept here as a warning to those mages who would dare challenge the Chantry and to force others into submission."

Alistair nodded. "Yes… that sounds like them, all right."

Owain bowed his head. "Do not fret over my fate. While I am devoid of emotions, I am not suffering. I am at peace without the burdens feelings bring upon one. However, it would be appropriate if the circle returned to normal, as it would be inconvenient to die."

Everil smiled lightly. "I can understand that. Perhaps there is something you can offer to help us save the Circle?"

"I am afraid everything of value has been taken. The last item of any significant power was taken by one who sought to save the Circle, Niall the mage."

"Niall? What did he take, Owain? How is he trying to save the Circle?" Wynne asked with questioning eyes.

"He took the Litany of Adrala. I do not know how he will use it… but perhaps he will be successful."

Wynne's eyes widened and she turned to Everil. "Maker, the Litany protects against a blood mage's abilities to control one's mind. This means that blood magic is truly responsible for what happened here. "

"We should try to catch up with this Niall. He may be able to help us," Everil replied with a nod and then cast a reassuring glance to the tranquil. "Thank you, Owain. Stay safe while we help fix this mess."

He gave her an almost imperceptible nod. "Feel free to take anything of use on your way out should you find anything, but please do not forget to sign the sheet."

xxxxxxx

"Is it just me or is it getting colder the higher we go?" Alistair uttered next to Everil, an involuntary shiver running down his spine.

"It's the magic in use here... The air is charged with it," Morrigan told the two, a hint of mysticism in her voice.

They made it to the third floor without incident, finding no other survivors on their way up. The halls were mostly full of dead bodies, but Everil knew there had to be more mages somewhere. Perhaps in hiding. As they cautiously walked through another door, a flash from the corner of their eye quickly caught their attention. A strike of lighting snapped towards them, and Alistair quickly pulled out his shield to block the hit, protecting the women standing behind him. He was silently grateful for the wooden frame on the back of the shield, as the sparks wrapped around the metal, leaving searing heat behind.

Everil drew her weapons, spotting their aggressor at the other end of the hall. She ran towards her, a mage with blood dripping down her hand, priming another spell.

"Blood mage!" Alistair shouted as he hurried after her.

A cloud of mist erupted from the ground, filling the area and blocking their view. Everil slashed at the spot where the mage once stood, finding only air. She whirled around. "Blast it! Where is she!"

A ball of fire cut through the fog and the two Wardens had to jump in opposite directions to dodge it. Another wave of flames forced Everil behind a pillar, the smell of burning sulfur reaching her nose.

She clicked her tongue. "How can she see us, when we can't see her?"

Alistair docked behind a table, flames barely missing his head. "I don't know, but it's not fair!"

Morrigan and Wynne tried to look past the fog, still standing by the doorway. A flash of red caught their eye, and Morrigan was forced to raise a wall of ice to shield them from the blast of fire. Another one hit close to the wall by Wynne.

Morrigan cursed under her breath. "Will you two end it already!"

Magnus sniffed at the air, the fog slightly disrupting his sense of smell. But he knew where the mage was.

Alistair peered over the table only to dock again, a wave of flames passing over him and burning the bookshelf in front of him. He scowled irritably, reaching up to make sure his hair had not caught on fire. "All right that's enough! Wynne, Morrigan, stay out of the room!"

"We intend to!" Morrigan called back.

He stood and began speaking under his breath, chanting words taught to him in the monastery. He tried to focus in every syllable, as the sparks in the air told him the blood mage was preparing another spell. A growl and a female cry cut through the air, disrupting the mage's spell and giving him time to utter the last word. The fog dispersed, swept away by an invisible force.

The mage let out a weak grunt as her cover was taken away and her mana drained. Magnus had pounced on her, pinning her down. But while she was weak, she still had blood magic, so she shot fire at the dog's face, forcing him off her as it yelped.

"No!" Everil dashed towards her and swung her sword, but the mage had already cast her spell. Ice crept up her legs and arms, lifting her off the ground, as she struggled to break free. "Put me down this instant!" She demanded through gritted teeth, cold pain piercing her skin as she glared heatedly at the mage.

The mage raised her staff, getting ready to shatter the ice as she smirked up at her victim. "With pleasure…"

"Oh no you don't!" Alistair rushed the mage then, swinging his blade and forcing her to take several steps away from his fellow Warden. He then lunged forward, slashing down only to hit a wall of ice. She sidestepped, then with a quick whisper shot a ball of flames, one he blocked with his shield, making it bounce down and away from his face.

He swung again, hitting her staff as he stared her down.

"You're a templar?" She asked between clenched teeth, her arms shaking as she tried to hold against his blade.

"Not any longer, but I still know enough to bring you to your knees, maleficar." He bit back, and then took a step, forcing her to take two steps back.

She then moved aside, dodging the hit. Alistair followed through, swinging back around and catching her in the winced and quickly chanted another spell, hitting his shield with an ice spell similar to the one Wynne had cast before. He quickly hit the metal with his blade, shattering the ice and rushing at her once more. As she began to chant again, Alistair beat her to it, cancelling out her spell.

She gasped, moving back in fear as his blade managed to pierce her hip. Her body dropped and she fell to her knees, grabbing onto the bleeding injury and letting go of her weapon. "I yield! Please! Let me explain!"

"You're kidding, right?" Alistair scoffed, walking up to her with his blade dripping blood. "You killed innocent people and tried to kill my friend. What makes you think I'll listen to anything you have to say?"

"Alistair, wait. I do have a few questions for her."

Alistair spun his head to see Everil walking to him, the ice having been dispelled upon the mage's defeat. Wynne, Morrigan and a slightly injured Magnus walked up behind her.

He slowly lowered his weapon. "Everil, she could have killed us."

"I know, but we need to find out more about what happened here...please." She replied, placing a hand on his arm while giving him a small smile.

He sighed, looking down at the mage with distrust as he sheathed his sword. "Fine. She shouldn't be able to use any spells for now, so it should be safe."

"Thank you." She then turned stern eyes to the woman on the ground. "Now… How about you start by telling us why you're doing all this?"

The blood mage gulped, then looked down in shame. "We…we just wanted our freedom. Freedom from the Chantry…from this prison! We were supposed to overthrow the Circle and escape."

"How exactly?" Everil folded her arms.

"Uldred told us he was working for Teyrn Loghain. That if we managed to leave the Circle, then Loghain would extend us amnesty and help free all mages from the Chantry's hold."

"Him again? Why in the Maker's name is Loghain doing all this?" Alistair uttered with a scowl.

The mage shook her head. "There was no explanation…we were just told he would help and we were desperate. But most couldn't handle blood magic. They were either possessed or turned insane by its power… blindly killing anything that moved."

Everil's hard eyes remained on the blood made, anger reflected upon them. "I know the Circle doesn't exactly foster trust from the mages. But was your freedom worth all these lives?"

"You don't know how it feels." The blood mage gave her a pitiful look. "You are trapped here from the moment you are brought into the tower, until the end of your days. And templars are always… always watching. Constantly looming over you… I wanted my life back. Blood magic was a… means to an end. A tool to release us all."

"I understand what you were trying to do. But the ends don't justify the means," Wynne told her with disappointment. "This was a place of refuge for us, just as it may have been a prison for you. Some of us fear ourselves, our power. Without a school to learn how to control it, we are just as much a danger to everyone else as we are to ourselves."

"You say it as if we had a choice, Wynne. We are torn away from our families as soon as our powers manifest. I don't even remember how my parents looked like!" She said bitterly.

"But using blood magic—"

"Andraste did not write the Tevinter Imperium a strongly worded letter when she freed the world from slavery. She waged war! And sometimes that's what it takes."

"Andraste didn't kill children either."

The mage turned wide eyes towards the female Warden, who regarded her coolly in return.

"The other mages took arms against us, just as the templars did. We had to defend ourselves! I…I didn't want to die..." The mage licked her lips, her hands closing into fists.

"There were children amongst the dead," Everil repeated.

The woman panicked, guilt in her eyes. "I didn't have a choice! Some had been possessed when the veil was torn!"

"Which was also your fault!" Everil snapped, taking a step. "You did have a choice and you made it when you and your friends attacked the Circle! And just how do you think this will look to the very people you were trying to free yourselves from? All you did was prove to them that magic is not worthy of trust!"

A brief silence filled the room as Everil's accusing eyes pinned the woman down. Her companions eyed her, surprised by her outburst.

"I just want to leave this place… please..." The woman choked out.

"It's too late for you." Everil drew her sword.

"N-no! Please! I beg you!" She clasped her hands together, tears streaming freely down her flushed face. "I will redeem myself! I'll make this right! Please, if you let me go I will seek refuge in the Chantry!"

Alistair watched as Everil's lips pressed together, the grip on her weapon tightening. She was hesitating, her sharp gaze slowly losing its edge. "I'm sorry…" She whispered.

Their eyes widened saw their leader's blade pierce the mage's chest, cutting through her heart. She let out a soft cry as she fell, her eyes glazing over into nothingness as she quickly perished.

Everil pulled out her blade, swung it clean and sheathed it behind her back. "We're done here. Let's keep moving."

She turned her back to them, walking to the next door without waiting for them to follow. Magnus quickly went after her, and Morrigan did the same, her stoic expression hiding any feelings she had as to what she had witnessed.

Alistair made for the door, when the old woman's voice made him pause. "Your friend... She killed someone who was begging for their life. Is that not just as cruel and dishonorable as killing an unarmed opponent?"

He shook his head, letting out a sigh. "Had she let her live, the blood mage would have been forced to injure or kill the templars waiting outside to make her escape. In killing her she protected those men, and possibly others outside the tower."

"How do you know she wouldn't have just surrendered?" Wynne challenged, her troubled eyes turning away from the body and towards the young man next to her.

"You saw her desperation... Do you honestly think she would have just given up and turned herself in peacefully?"

"No, but…" Wynne's brow furrowed.

"It wasn't an easy decision for Everil," He uttered, looking towards her retreating back. "She even apologized and gave her a quick death. None of which this woman deserved after what she did. Everil did the right thing…even if we don't all agree with her."

"Ah… I see…" The old woman looked down, feeling slightly ashamed at having passed judgment upon her without taking her emotions into consideration.

Alistair put a hand on her shoulder. "Come on. We should catch up to them before they run into trouble." With that he followed the other Warden.

Wynne walked behind him. Perhaps he was right. She only hoped that the young woman was strong enough to live with her decisions.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter VII

"I still cannot believe you actually have templar abilities, Alistair."

"Why is that surprising? I already said I was trained as one."

Morrigan thoughtfully tapped her chin with her finger. "The Chantry does not usually let go of their templars, or so I heard. Which made me wonder if perhaps you were utterly useless as one, and if that was the reason why you were ultimately given to the Grey Wardens."

Alistair gave her an irritated look. "I was not given to the Grey Wardens."

"Then you were conscripted? Perhaps out of pity by your Duncan?"

His heated glare made her laugh. "So I guessed correctly! How interesting."

Everil shushed them as they continued their search through the tower. They didn't need any attention drawn to them.

"Are you done trying to ridicule me?" He muttered angrily, fruitlessly attempting to ignore the witch's mocking smile.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "I was only curious. No need to get so defensive. You would think that perhaps you were hiding something more."

"I already told her. Your trick won't work this time." Alistair put on a triumphant grin.

She lifted a brow. "You told her what exactly?"

"You think you're smarter than me, so figure it out yourself."

"Oh please. I am not that interested in the likes of you." She huffed, waving dismissively at him.

"Oh really? That's too bad. I actually thought we were starting to become friends. I was even about to complement your nose."

She scowled. "My nose…?"

He grinned. "Yes. It looks just like your mother's."

Morrigan gave him a dark look, her eyes narrowing into slits. "I… hate you."

Alistair inwardly patted himself on the back, looking away from her with a satisfied smile.

They soon reached a desolate office, with books scattered about. Shelves and strange artifacts lined the walls, while an ornate desk sat at the center.

Wynne sighed in disappointment. "This is Irvin's office. I half expected him to be here."

"We'll just have to keep searching." Everil eyed the books covering the First Enchanter's desk. Some seemed related to blood magic, and she found herself wondering why these texts were even housed within the Circle and out in the open.

"I may have found something." Morrigan stood above a large chest in the corner of the room.

"Irvin keeps old scriptures within that chest. He may have left something we can use, though he always carried the key with him," Said Wynne.

"Let me take a look." Everil walked up and took a knee, pulling out her lock pick. She fiddled with the chest as the others gathered around her, the lock making clicking noises as she twisted the pieces of metal, trying to undo the mechanism as she bit her lip in concentration.

"Are you sure you can open it?" Morrigan asked impatiently, crossing her arms.

A loud click was heard.

"Does that answer your question?" Everil said with a cocky grin. She then rose and stepped aside and let Morrigan rummage through it. Soon the witch let out a triumphant sound, lifting herself from the floor while holding a black, leather-bound book.

"This is it!" She showed Everil her prize, a smile on her purple lips. "Flemeth's Grimoire… This book represents the first time my mother's secrets slipped out of her fingers. If I can study this I will be able to learn more than she wished for me to know. About her… and about magic."

"Flemeth…? She is Flemeth's daughter? I thought those were mere legends," Wynne commented with wide eyes. "I suppose that explains her hostility towards the Circle of Magi."

Alistair chuckled next to her. "And towards everything else, really."

"I imagine Flemeth has many secrets," Everil said with interest.

"She does indeed..." Morrigan cleared her throat. "I thank you for allowing me to search for it. I shall not squander this opportunity, and I will ensure to use my findings for our benefit."

Everil smiled. "Of course. That's what friends are for."

"Y-yes… certainly." Morrigan smiled awkwardly, and then quickly stashed the book in her bag.

A man's scream then pierced the silence of the hall, causing the group to run out of the office. Everil led them down the dark corridor, hoping that whoever had cried out still lived. The hall was soon illuminated by strange purple and red lights, wrapped in what appeared to be sacks of flesh stuck to the walls. It was as if they had entered a different world, and Everil didn't like it at all.

They soon reached a large chamber, filled with more dead. More lumps of flesh grew out of the walls, giving it a hellish appearance. Everil forced down the vile threatening to come up her throat, the smell of decay and blood almost overwhelming.

A monster stood at the center, holding on to a young man's wrist as he lay lifeless by its feet. The creature moved its head slowly, blank eyes focusing upon the new arrivals.

"Ah…guests." It uttered sluggishly, a faint smile playing over its deformed lips.

Wynne covered her mouth as she gasped. "Niall!"

Everil drew her weapons and pointed her sword at the abomination. "What have you done to that mage?"

It looked down at its victim, its shoulders shacking with what sounded like dark laughter. "He is merely resting. He was so very weary."It then returned his attention to her, tilting its grotesque head as if curious. "Are you not tired of all the fighting? Surely your mortal body demands rest…"

Alistair yawned, his eyes narrowing as he fought to keep them open. "Something's not right… So tired... somebody pinch me…"

Morrigan leaned on her staff, looking at the floor with disgust. "You cannot expect me... to sleep on a floor sticky with blood."

Wynne reached up to hold her head. "Resist... you must resist..."

It continued, its deep voice like a soft lullaby in their ears. "Oh how good it would feel to finally take a nap. To sleep away the pain in your muscles."

"No…What are you…doing to us?" Everil's hold on her blade wavered as she stared at the creature through half closed eyes, attempting to fight off the exhaustion in her body.

"You should rest… come lay your head upon my breast and… sleep." It uttered once more, this time his voice sounding farther away.

She felt herself fall, her vision going dark, her weapon clattering upon the ground. And the others followed suit.

xxxxxxx

The birds chirped just outside her window, as soft drops of a light rain sprinkled the glass. The sounds of the soldiers training outside filled the air, giving her a familiar sense of security. Everil stared down at her bed, already made for her by the maids. She couldn't remember what it was she was doing before coming to her room, but for some reason she felt relaxed. At peace.

Everil adjusted her silk gown and fluffed her hair before making her way out of her room, closing the door behind her. She usually had Magnus with her, but he was nowhere to be seen. She frowned in puzzlement, finding his absence strange.

"Ah… he is probably raiding the larder again. Let him be." A voice that wasn't her own echoed in her head, murmuring as if it were whispering in her ear.

"Yes… he must be hungry." She uttered to herself as if in a trance, walking down the hall towards the gardens.

The rain had stopped by the time she stepped outside, leaving behind glistering droplets upon the greenery as the sun's rays hit the leaves. A little boy's distant laughter then reached her ears, bringing a smile to her lips. She followed the sound, walking through rose bushes and gardenias while enjoying the aroma of the flowers.

As she reached the clearing, she could see a child running, chased by a man she recognized as her older brother. Her smile widened as the two fell and rolled upon the sparkling grass, only to be chastised gently by Oriana, who was chuckling nearby.

Another couple sat under a canopy by a pond, their loving smiles beckoning her to join them. A gentle music played in the background, the soft tunes familiar to her as her family's minstrel played her lute nearby.

A small voice in the back of her head told her something was amiss, but as she walked towards her parents, that strange voice was drowned out by the happiness she was feeling.

Everil watched as her mother stood and opened her arms wide, welcoming her into an embrace. She returned the hug, confused as to why she suddenly felt like crying.

"You join us at last, my darling girl." Eleanor gently stroked her cheek.

Everil nodded as her father joined them. "Why are you out here?" She asked curiously.

"We wanted to spend time under the sunlight. It's a beautiful day, don't you agree?" Her mother said as she smiled lovingly at her.

Everi frowned. "But it was raining just now…"

That same voice from before echoed in her brain, taking hold of her thoughts. "You all loved the rainy days at the castle. Look at how joyous your family looks."

At this, Everil chuckled, smiling brightly. "I suppose there is nothing odd about playing in a little rain."

"Aunty Evy! Look!"

She turned to see Oren dancing to the minstrel's tune with his mother, clumsily following the steps as she led. He tried to twirl her around, but he was too short. Oriana giggled as she bent over to help him, turning her body.

"That looks like fun. Bryce, you should dance with her. She may need a new lesson." Eleanor looked up to her husband, placing a hand on his arm.

He laughed. "That is an excellent idea, love! This child of mine was always a terrible dancer."

"Well my teacher wasn't that good either, Father," Everil countered jokingly.

Bryce then stepped closer, bowing before her with a hand at his back and the other outstretched towards her. "Would you kindly grant me this piece, my lady?"

She blushed slightly in embarrassment and nodded slowly, placing her hand on his. The two walked out to the clearing as the bard continued to play, this time a different piece. Father and daughter followed the melody, slowly dancing as if it were a ball. She was a little clumsy in her steps, but muscle memory prevailed.

One. Two. Three.

One. Two. Three.

She smiled, looking up at her Father's eyes.

"You are not as bad as I remember, my dear girl," He uttered proudly.

"Geez…thank you for the compliment." She grinned.

But as they continued to dance, her smile slowly faded, a strange feeling settling upon her chest. "Wait… I feel as if I'm forgetting something," She spoke quietly, her feet no longer moving to the music.

"Nonsense. Just enjoy your time with your family," Bryce replied with a loving smile.

"No… this is… odd. There was something important I had to do." She took a step back, looking down at her hands in frustration. "What was it? What was it I was supposed to be doing?"

His eyes darkened. "Ignore that feeling. You should not leave us again."

She gave him a confused look. "What are you saying? I've always been here."

"Then you should remain here. We will all be together like this, forever," He said with a sad smile, pulling her into a tight hug.

She returned the hug, instantly feeling safe in her father's arms. She sighed, her blurred memories clouding her judgment.

"Don't!" Suddenly a hand grabbed her from behind, forcing her out of her father's embrace and onto the ground with a huff.

She shot her aggressor an angry glare and then immediately recognized his robes. He was a mage, someone she had seen somewhere before.

"Wake up! This is not what you think it is. You're in the Fade!" He yelled down at her, shaking her by the shoulders.

Everything rushed back to her, hitting her like a brick wall.

Her family's death.

The Blight.

Redcliffe.

The Circle.

The demon.

Her friends.

"This… isn't real?" She repeated in almost a whisper, her gaze trailing from the mage's deep brown eyes up to her father, who stared down at them with a blank stare. Her heart clenched with a mixture pain and anger, her eyes narrowing at the trickery.

"Yes. This may not be real, but if you stay you will live in eternal happiness." The fake Bryce took a step towards the two, while the rest of her family also began to move.

Everil pushed herself up with the help from the mage, her eyes never leaving her family. "Niall, is it?" She uttered to her companion.

He nodded. "That's right... I take it you ran into Owain on your way up. Did you come to help the Circle?"

"That is the plan, yes."

"Good. I figured as much. Which is why I came to help you," He said, the two retreating back as the enemy began to step closer.

"I appreciate it," She replied, eyes darting from one enemy to the other. She was unarmed, and without her weapons the only thing she could do was possibly break their necks. For some reason she thought that would be ineffective in the fade… that and she wasn't eager to fight her family, fake or not.

Their faces slowly turned sinister, eyes glowing red as their sneers dripped with drool. Then they rushed them, letting out hungry howls.

"Run!" Niall shouted as he grabbed her hand. And so they ran, the mage guiding her deep into the forest surrounding the castle.

"Where are we going?" She shouted, picking up her dress as to not to trip.

One of the demons leapt forward, claws outstretched.

"Watch out!" Niall cried out, pushing her to the side as the creature pounced on him.

"Niall!" Everil picked herself up to watch as her demonic father growled at her from atop her rescuer, drool dripping from his mouth as if he were a rabid dog.

"Damn you for making me do this!" She cried out and quickly twisted to kick him hard on the jaw. The demon stumbled to the side, as she reached down to grab the mage by the front of his robe, forcibly lifting him up. "Come on!" She pulled on the dazed man, running farther in with him in toe.

They ran through the foliage, dodging branches and jumping over roots, the background beginning to turn into a blur.

"Look for a mirror!" He yelled from behind her, the howls of the creatures growing louder despite their efforts to outrun them. Just as he said this, a mirror stood in between the trees, its surface rippling as if it were liquid. But as they tried to reach it, the demon playing her brother stood between them and their escape, making her stop in her tracks.

She panted heavily, glaring at it. "Get out of my way!"

"You will not leave here, little sister." It said mockingly, her brother's voice lazed with a sinister note underneath. "You shall remain here and bask in our love."

"I have important business to attend to and a Cousland always fulfills their duties!" She said with a proud tilt of her chin. "Now move aside. I don't care if you look like my brother. I shall run right through you."

"My lady!" Niall cast a spell, flames forcing the demon out of the way.

She took the mage's hand and ran, stepping into the mirror. But as she did the demons took hold of him, claws digging into his body as he cried out in pain.

"No!" She took his hand with both of hers, but the demon pulled upon him, stronger than she, threatening to drag them both back into the portal.

"Only you can defeat Sloth now!" Niall reached out with a pain stricken expression, using his other hand to shove hers away. "Please… save my Circle!"

He was dragged away, the mirror closing before her.

"Blast it!" She pounded on the glass, which remained intact despite the punishment. She vaguely noticed she was back in her Grey Warden armor, her weapons on her back.  
"You bastard..." She muttered between clenched teeth, looking up at the hazy, yellow sky. "I swear to you, I shall make you pay for toying with the memory of my family."

Far away cries could be heard in the distance, resonating around her. The world she was in was dark and distorted, floating rocks and streaming amber clouds filling the landscape. She scowled with distaste, silently hoping her real family was not truly within this world of the dead.

Another mirror caught her attention, leaning against a pillar at the other end of the platform she was standing upon. She walked up to it, expecting to see her own reflection, but instead someone else stared back at her.

"Wynne?" She reached out, the mirror rippling under her touch. If her companions were within these mirrors, then it was likely they were the way out as well. She would have to try.

xxxxxxx 

Everil slowly stepped in, entering a room with similar appearance to one they had explored in the Circle tower. It was a giant library, filled wall to wall with books. She walked around the bookshelves separating the room into sections, seeing young mages study or cast spells around her.

A soft, yet stern voice drew her attention.

"Hold the flame still. You need to control your feelings and control of your power without fear."

Wynne stood a distance away from one of her charges, gently scolding him as he tried to hold together a ball of fire while the other children stood by and watched.

The kid let out a small cry as the flame burned his finger, suddenly growing larger. Wynne stepped closer, her hands hovering over his. The fire quickly stabilized, drawing a sigh of relief from him.

"See? I am only helping you stay calm. If you conquer your fear, you will be able to control your magic," Wynne said softly as she smiled gently down at him. "Mind over matter."

Sensing eyes on her, Wynne directed a curious look towards her. "Who are you? Why are you here?"

Everil replied with a bewildered look. "Wynne… You don't remember me?"

Wynne's expression turned into an irritated one. "Can't you see I am in the middle of a lesson?"

Everil sighed helplessly. Maker's breath. Why can't anything ever be easy?

"These children are not what they seem," She told the old mage.

Wynne sent her a defiant look, grabbing her staff from behind her back. "What are you talking about stranger?"

"I'm saying we are in the fade. A demon has trapped us all in here."

"Ridiculous. Now away with you! I have much teaching to do."

Everil raised her hands as if in a defensive posture. "Fine, but before I go just tell me one thing. Do you remember what you were doing before you came here?"

The old woman glared at her.

"Just think back for a minute."

"All right... If it so pleases you..." Wynne uttered irritably, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. She strained, her features stiffening as she searched her memories. "It's... fuzzy. I can't remember what I was doing before I came into this room." She turned worried eyes to the young woman before her. "This is... not right."

"Do you remember the Sloth demon? The creature that trapped us in here." Everil probed further. "Do you remember the Circle?"

The old woman's eyes grew as the memories slowly dawned upon her. "The Circle… we were trying to save it."

Everil nodded. "That's right."

Wynne tightened her hold on her staff. "Oh Maker… We must hurry and leave this place!"

One of the children took a step, reaching out to Wynne with small fingers. "Wynne? Please don't leave us... We need you."

The old woman appeared to falter, before she swatted the child's hand away. "Be gone demon. I have no interest in playing your games."

His face suddenly twisted into a malicious expression while the others did the same, closing in to surround the two of them.

Everil drew her weapon. "Looks like they're not willing to let you go without a fight."

Suddenly claws grew out of their fingers and they pounced.

Everil pulled the mage behind her, taking a step and swinging to take out the creature. They all growled and attacked at once, slashing at her with their razor sharp sidestepped, dodging one and slashing at its back. She quickly blocked another, kicking it in the middle and promptly delivering another slash. Two closed in from opposite sides, trying to flank her. She quickly docked as one went for her neck, kicked the other's feet from underneath it and sliced through both of them as she lifted herself back up.

In minutes the demons lay dead, bleeding onto the floor with empty stares.

Everil quickly turned to Wynne, walking to her as she put away her weapon. "Let's go. We still have to help the others."

Wynne swallowed at the sight of the dead children. "Yes."

As they made for the mirror, Wynne stopped, looking at her with a terrified expression. "Where are you going?"

Everil turned on her heel, watching as her companion began to slowly vanish.

"Wynne!"

She reached out, her fingers going through her before she completely disappeared. She cursed under her breath, looking around as a laughing voice echoed around her.

"You have released one of them, but I hold three yet. What will you do now, Warden?"

"It's quite simple, really. I'm going to save the others, then I'll find and kill you!" She snapped angrily up at the darkness, the scenery around her bluring into nothingness.

"We shall see…"

She stalked back towards the mirror, leaving the darkness behind. Everil then walked out to the same spot she had been before, as another mirror appeared nearby. This one with Morrigan's image upon it.

xxxxxxx 

"Will you cease the charade, demon? I have already told you I will not be fooled. Now, away with you."

Everil made her way through the woods, the familiar appearance of the Wilds bringing back memories. The surroundings mimicked Flemeth's hut, a fire that radiated no heat was burning at the center, a large kettle hovering over it.

The demon's eyes hardened. "Such rebellious tongue. You would disrespect your mother in such a way?"

Morrigan met her glare. "You are not my mother, you vile creature."

Everil arrived just in time to watch the fake Flemeth suddenly lash out, slapping Morrigan across the face.

Morrigan stared at it with wide eyes, her brain slowly registering what had just transpired. Her amber eyes then narrowed into a deadly glare. "You…miserable…"

"Morrigan?" Everil called tentatively.

Morrigan's head snapped in her direction with relief. "You! You're finally here. Now I can rid myself of this infernal thing!" She then without warning released a wave of fire that sent the demon flying back a few feet.

It quickly stood and darted forth, claws extended. Everil swiftly drew her weapon and blocked its attack, but this one's strength was greater than the others she fought before. She gritted her teeth, struggling against its resistance before it pulled one arm back and hit her, knocking her to the side.

Everil quickly rolled and pushed herself up, watching in surprise as it charged towards her. Then a wall of fire erupted before her, blocking the demon and setting it aflame while forcing it to back away. Everil took the chance, running towards it and stabbing her sword in its chest. It twitched as its blood sprayed on the dirt, slowly vanishing with a shriek.

She panted and turned to Morrigan. "Thanks for the help."

She shook her head. "No, you have my thanks. I could not kill it myself because of the demon's ability to manipulate my dream. I imagine you had a similar problem."

"Yes, but I was nearly swallowed up. The demon was using my family's memory to try to keep me in." She let out a sigh. "It felt… so real."

Morrigan didn't miss the painful look that crossed her eyes, but now was not the time to talk about feelings. "How did you escape it?"

"Niall helped me."

"The mage?"

"Yes." Everil put away her blade. "What was this one trying to show you?"

"I do not know myself." Morrigan crossed her arms with a cool look. "I do not think I gave it much room for creativity, since I possess no unrealistic desires to exploit. I accept things as they are and make my destiny with my own hands."

"Oh… I suppose that's a good way to be. I can see it has made you strong," Everil said with a smile.

"I am glad you see it that way." The witch gave her a small smirk. "Now. Shall we go hunt down this demon and - Huh...? What is happening?"

Everil watched with closed fists as yet another companion disappeared. Now she knew she was being forced to do this alone.

"Two more left..." She uttered with a determined look, urging herself forward. She made for the mirror as the rackety old hut, along with the woods around her, also blurred into nothingness.

xxxxxxx 

Everil gave the third portal a curious look, seeing a small boy around the age of her nephew staring back at her with large hazel eyes. She couldn't recognize him, but something told her she knew who he was. So she entered the portal without hesitation, stepping into another world within the realm.

The boy she had seen in the reflection before was in a corner of the small bedroom, sitting on the floor and playing with small wooden soldiers. He talked to himself, clashing the figures together in a pretend battle.

"Hello?" She ventured, but received no response. She reached out to him, but her hand just went through him as if she were a ghost.

A low growl came from his stomach, surprising her.

"Ah…I'm hungry." He pointed out to himself, then pushed himself up to his feet. As he turned towards her, his eyes briefly met hers. There was something familiar about his appearance, but she couldn't quite place it. He headed for the bedroom door and stepped out. She followed, unsure of what was happening, but intent on finding out.

Her eyes inspected their surroundings as they walked, the décor of dogs and battlefields telling her it was a Fereldan homestead. Suddenly the memories came to her, and she recognized where she was.

It was Redcliffe Castle, only without the bloodstains and dead bodies piled up in the halls. They were crossing the passage by the main hall when a conversation echoing from within made the boy stop mid step.

"I know it has not been long since the war, your Majesty. But I love her, and you can trust I would never put Ferelden in danger."

"I do trust you, Eamon. It's not I who questions your judgment, but the people. Their wounds are still fresh. You should know this."

The boy edged closer to the door as Everil did the same, and as they peered inside, a tall man wearing fine garments of leather and fur came into view. His long blonde hair fell elegantly over his wide shoulders, an elaborate sword encrusted in gold strapped to his hip.

He needed no literall crown for her to know who he was.

"King Maric...?" She murmured in wonderment.

The king's annoyed blue eyes turned towards the door, and she thought that perhaps he heard her call his name. But his gaze instead fell upon the child standing next to her, the man's features immediately softening. "Alistair?"

Everil's eyes widened, her gaze snapping down to the kid.

Of course it was him. How could she have missed those beautiful eyes of his? She couldn't help the smile that slid onto her face at how adorable he looked, with his messy hair and puffy, dirt stained cheeks.

But why am I seeing all this? Is this his dream? She thought with a confused frown, watching him walk in from the doorway as she listened intently.

Alistair took a few tentative steps and then bowed to the King of Ferelden.

"You have grown much since I last saw you. You almost look like a man now." Maric said with a chuckle.

"Thank you, your Majesty." Alistair replied timidly, peering up at the regal man with a tiny smile.

"He has been learning sword fighting… and I try to educate him in history and politics,"Arl Eamon said as he walked towards the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder with a proud smile. "But he prefers playing in the fields, escaping to the village or talking to the servants. Often times I'm forced to chase him through the castle just so he will listen to a word I say."

"Yes. That… sounds familiar," Maric quietly replied, and she noticed the sad glint in his eyes.

He suddenly smacked the shoulder of another kid standing beside him, this one a teenager. "Cailan here is the same way. Not a day goes by without Loghain coming to me with complaints about my son's constant efforts to avoid his lectures. Quite rebellious, this one."

He looked up in irritation, his cheeks turning a shade of red. "Father!"

"That's Cailan?" She whispered, observing the young man from afar. He didn't have the long hair she remembered, but his features looked similar. And as she watched the three standing in the same room, she realized that the resemblance between them was uncanny. It was glaringly obvious to her now that Alistair was King Maric's son.

Did he know this at this point?

The innocent look in his eyes as he regarded his father told her otherwise. Perhaps Arl Eamon was waiting for the right time to tell him. Perhaps when he was older.

Suddenly something pulled on her, making her turn her eyes towards a room at the far end of the hall. She gave the main hall one last glance before cautiously approaching the door. She opened it carefully, only to find herself in Alistair's room again. The door then disappeared, leaving a wall behind her.

"No! I'm not going!"

"Alistair please... This is for your own good," An older Arl Eamon said softly, trying to appease the raging boy passing before him.

Alistair was much taller now, a few years older. "But I don't want to go!" He protested, his voice breaking in a mix of anger and pain. "Don't you love me anymore?"

"Of course I still love you. I always will. Your behavior however, has made it difficult to keep both you and Isolde under the same roof."

"It's not my fault! She hates me! She always has, but you don't listen!" He spat out, bitter tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. "She's always making you yell at me! Always treating me bad and calling me a bastard!"

His small hands then closed into fists as he shook with rage. "I hate her..."

"Alistair..." The arl warned.

"I wish she hand't come here!" He snapped. "I wish she didn't exist!"

The resounding sound of a slap made her freeze, and she stared with wide eyes as the arl's hand dropped slowly to his side.

Alistair's astonished eyes slowly turned to look up at him, and he shakily reached up to touch his red cheek as a tear slid down his face.

Eamon closed his hand into a fist, looking away as a painful look crossed his eyes. "Prepare your things. You leave in the morning."

The arl then stalked out of the room with slumped shoulders, his steps heavy, leaving a still shocked boy behind.

Now alone, Alistair angrily plucked a silver chain from around his neck, throwing it against the wall with an anguished cry and breaking it into pieces.

Everil felt her heart wrench at the sight, unable to move as she watched him crumble to the floor in a mixture of sadness and rage. She could nearly imagine how he felt, abandoned at birth and then cast aside by the only man he ever thought of as a father.

She walked towards him, slowly reaching out but unable to touch him. She wanted to hold him, to offer him some comfort. But this was yet another memory and there was nothing she could do now.

The room then slowly faded around her, replaced by a tall ceiling and walls with mosaic windows. She swallowed the knot in her throat and willed herself to walk, wandering towards another door as the urge to find the real Alistair drove her forward.

She tentatively opened it, stepping into what seemed to be a chamber of prayer. The walls were lined with statues of women dressed in chantry vestments, their hands clasped together. She could only assume they were past Devines, chosen leaders of the Chantry.

And as she looked further in, she saw Alistair was kneeling before the statue of Andraste at the center, a candle slowly burning away before him.

A familiar figure walked up to him, his Grey Warden armor glimmering in the candle-lit chamber. Behind him followed a woman of old age, her elaborate robes showing her status of Revered Mother.

Everil couldn't understand what was happening. Alistair mentioned Duncan recruited him a mere six months before they met. This Alistair seemed to be only a teenager.

"You can't take him with you. He was given into the service of the Chantry!" The old woman said angrily. "Being a templar is his chosen duty!"

Duncan shook his head, gesturing towards him. "The boy is miserable here… just look at him."

Whispers of people who were not present in the room travelled around them, echoing within her head.

"Who does he think he is?"

"He's the arl's bastard son, that's who he is. A pure bred mabari has better blood than he does."

"Pathetic. Stop crying already! Just because your dad's a noble doesn't make you special."

Was this what he used to hear other children say about him? Everil frowned, seeing Alistair's lively attitude was non-existent as his shoulders slumped and boredom was etched upon his features.

He had said he hated being in the monastery, now she could see clearly what lay behind his lack of pride when speaking of his templar training.

"He wishes to join us and is a strong warrior, he will be of good use in the Grey Wardens. Let me recruit him," Duncan insisted.

"Absolutely not," The Reverend Mother replied, arrogantly lifting her chin at him.

"Then you leave me no choice." Duncan's eyes sharpened at the nun. "I hereby conscript Alistair into the Grey Wardens. He is mine to take, and no longer belongs you. We shall leave immediately."

"How dare you?" The woman's scornful eyes narrowed at Duncan.

Duncan ignored her, stepping towards him before he reached out to him. "Come."

Alistair looked up at him with wide eyes, tentatively taking his hand.

Everil's eyes saddened, her chest heavy. Seeing Duncan and being recruited by him must have felt like a blessing to him. As if someone had finally and willingly chosen him, rather than leaving him behind as others did.

She saw another door open at the side of the room and she continued on. When she finally walked through it she found herself in an old fortress, tall griffon statues lining the walls, torches aflame between them. She saw two forms standing in the distance. She set her jaw as she headed towards them.

The same Alistair stood next to Duncan, staring off into space.

"Ah you've arrived. Welcome to Weisshaupt Fortress, the Grey Warden's main headquarters," Duncan told her, smiling warmly.

"Alistair," She called with a concerned look, reaching out to touch him.

Duncan smacked her hand away, his kind gaze turning murderous.

She scowled at him, meeting his glare with one of her own. "Release him."

"He wishes for a loving family, and I have given this to him. You would take away his happiness?"

"I know your tricks, demon. Now let him go," She commanded, her fingers wrapping around the hilt of her blade.

But instead of doing as she said, the spirit responded by lashing forth with its blades. Everil quickly blocked, then drew back, slashing at Duncan.

He blocked the hit, but she pushed forth, attacking again and again. She felt anger, enraged that this creature had toyed with her before, and that now it was doing the same with her friend. The spirit grunted under the weight of her blade as the two were locked in a struggle of strength.

Duncan pushed against her with all his might, throwing her off balance and following through with a horizontal slash. But she was faster, and she ducked, kicking his feet. As it fell, she stood and brought down her blade, stabbing its chest. It let out a shriek as she ran it through, the creature vanishing into a green fog.

She panted and stood, glaring down at the now empty floor.

"They're all gone now."

The sad voice made her turn her head to Alistair as he looked back at her with an anguished expression.

"I'm… alone." He choked out as he closed his fists so tight they shook, his knuckles turning pale. "Why couldn't I have a family like everyone else? Why wouldn't anyone listen?"

Everil walked up to him. "Alistair…"

"Why does it have to be this way?" He uttered between sobs. "I have nobody! No one cares! Why!"

She gently wrapped her arms around him, her own heart aching for him.

He had told her of his rough childhood, but after seeing a glimpse of it with her very eyes, she felt she understood now more than ever. She now knew the reason behind his tendency to veil everything in a curtain of humor, why he avoided talking about his past to anyone he didn't trust. The cause of the pain in his eyes when revealed he was the bastard Prince of Ferelden.

"You're not alone. I care about you..." She soothed quietly into his shirt, closing her eyes as she held him tighter. "I'm here with you... and I promise I won't abandon you."

A pair of strong arms then enveloped her, and she felt him return the hug just as tightly.

"Everil..."

Her eyes snapped opened, her heart skipping a beat at the sound of his much deeper voice. With a curious frown, she slowly pulled back just enough to look up at the Alistair she knew.

"I heard every word... Thank you." He uttered, a corner of his lip spreading into a sheepish smile.

Without a second thought she hugged him again, pressing her cheek against the cold metal plate on his broad chest as a deep sense of relief took over her. "Are you all right?" She murmured worriedly.

He hesitated, but she was pleased to feel him hug her back once more. "I'm fine… though to be honest, I would feel better if we got out of here."

She felt his hold slowly weaken as he began to vanish, just as the others did. "It looks like you will be going ahead of me."

"What?" He gave her a startled look. "Wait…why are you see-through? Where are you going? Hey!"

He vanished, leaving her behind as a small smile upon her lips. 

xxxxxxx 

Everil stood before the last mirror, one that was no doubt for her hound. When she entered the portal, an all too familiar room greeted her. It was filled with dolls and draped in pale pink and golden sheets. A slight whine made her look towards her old bed, where a young girl slept soundly.

Like a sentinel, Magnus sat at the foot of the bed, guarding the child.

She stepped closer. "Hi boy."

His ears perked up as he looked up at her, cocking his head to the side. She knelt down, her hands reaching out to stroke his head. "I get it… in your eyes, I'll always be that little girl who needs protection."

He nuzzled her hand, his adoring gaze upon her. This mabari had been her companion since her youth, the only one she knew for certain would never betray her trust. She wrapped her arms around him, stroking the back of his head. "Thank you, Magnus. You've always been there for me."

Magnus gave her a soft lick on the cheek, and then began to disappear before her. He whined, trying to snuggle closer to her.

"Don't worry, boy. I will be right behind you." She smiled reassuringly at him.

Once he was gone she stood. She now had to find her own way out.

"Quite impressive human, but while you took away my morsels, your soul will surely be the most delicious." Sloth chuckled darkly into her head, the rough edges of its voice scratching at her ears. "I will enjoy hearing your screams as I devour you from the inside."

She ignored it, determination upon her features as she made her way out of her hound's dream.

A large mirror now stood at the center of the platform. She stepped closer to it, immediately feeling a chill run down her spine as the air around her grew colder. Any demon with the ability to create dreams and trap people in would surely be a force to be reckoned with. But despite her fear, it was personal and she had some payback to deliver, so she pulled out her sword and stepped inside.

This world was similar to the one with the mirrors, only spires of bone and rock towered over her, the floors coming to an end in a drop as the void stretched further than the eye could see. It was cold and her body shivered involuntarily in response to the chilling air as she walked towards the center of the platform.

The demon stood at the center, waiting for her while salivating upon itself. It looked nothing like the abomination in the realm of the living, its robes floating around it as it hovered over the ground with a permanent grin upon its face.

"You should have submitted yourself to me. You would have remained happy, and you wouldn't have to die like this. I could have offered you eternal bliss," It said with mock sadness.

Everil scowled in anger at it. "Oh I will feel bliss, all right… As I run you through and end your miserable existence." She dropped into a stance, her blades at the ready.

"Such a shame…" It rotated its shoulders, preparing itself. "I will so enjoy this."

Everil circled it, measuring up the creature, her eyes never leaving it as she tightened the grip on her weapons.

"Come!" Sloth growled.

And she did, kicking forth and running towards it. She swung her blades forth, but it easily dodged them, floating to the side like a specter. It flung an arm, and she blocked with her dagger, then she crouched as it used its other arm. She came up swinging with her sword, but this time it used its claws, stopping her in her tracks.

It chuckled before hitting her in the stomach and sending her flying backwards. She huffed as she rolled and quickly pushed herself up to her feet. As she did the demon began to chant in a dark tune, summoning a blizzard that began to swirl around it.

Everil ran and jumped over a rock and bone formation nearby, just as it froze behind her. Shards of ice formed around the edges of her cover, making her breathe out white smoke as the air became frigid.

It laughed mirthfully. "This is my world human! You will freeze no matter where you run!"

She clicked her tongue, but she wasn't about to give up. She shivered as she looked over the edge, eyes focused on the spell.

"Nothing you do will stop me!" It cried out in response to her sharp gaze. "When I am done with you, I will move on to consume the rest of you mortals!"

Everil drew her bow, and then hoisted herself up to stand upon the rock. She drew an arrow.

"You truly think you can hit me with that?" It mocked.

She prepared her shot, and then aimed to the side. "Eat this!"

She fired, the arrow flying with the wind, shifting to the side and perfectly hitting its mark as the demon howled in pain, the blizzard instantly dispelling. She quickly put away her bow and drew her blades, charging towards the demon as it reached for the arrow currently stuck on its face.

Her blade stabbed flesh then, green blood sprinkling upon her. Sloth released a painful cry, and she twisted her weapon, stabbing it further into its chest. It fell on its knees and she pulled her blade out with a disgusted look.

"I hope that tasted good to you." She panted with narrowed eyes, watching as it fell onto its side with one last breath.

"Good work."

Everil's head snapped up to a man's voice coming from above. He floated down, kind eyes cast upon her.

"Niall?" She uttered.

He nodded. "You did what I could not. You broke free of Sloth's hold and defeated him in the process."

"It was all thanks to your help." She said with a smile. "So should we not be waking up by now?"

"You will shortly... I will not be joining you, however. I'm…dying."

"What…?" She frowned.

He sighed and shook his head. "Sloth used my life force to fuel your dreams. There is nearly nothing left of me… I can't even reclaim my body."

"I'm… sorry." She swallowed, her hands closing tightly around her weapons. This man had saved her life, and yet she was unable to do the same for him.

"Don't be. I was never meant to save the Circle... You however, have proven that you have the power to do so." He said somberly. "When you awaken, take the Litany of Adralla from my body. Use it to save the Circle from Uldred and his blood mages. Make sure they pay for what they have done to us."

She gave him a firm nod. "I will... I promise."

"Thank you... and good bye, friend." Niall gave her one last sad smile before their bodies vanished, the world around them slowly fading away.

Then there was darkness. 

xxxxxxx 

"I think she is waking up. 'Tis about time."

"Thank the Maker... "

The voices sounded muffled to her ears. She became vaguely aware of someone holding her and the cold hard floor pressing against her hip. Consciousness drew her in, and she slowly opened her eyes, Alistair's relieved expression gradually coming into focus. The others gathered around him, also peering down at her.

She let a small smile tug at her lips. "Hi."

"Hey." He smiled back. "Welcome back to the Blight."

"Thanks... Still better than the Fade, though." She groaned lightly as he helped her sit up, her hand going up to her forehead in an attempt to stop the pounding in her head.

"You know, it took you a while to wake up, even after that thing fell dead. I was beginning to worry." He quietly told her, .

"What? No demon can best me." She grinned, patting his shoulder before turning to the Wynne. "Is it dead at least?"

"It is." She replied, gesturing to the demon.

Everil slowly stood, then began walking up to Niall's body. She knelt down, gently retrieving the scroll from his frigid fingers.

"All right... Let's get this over with, shall we?" She looked to the next door, which lead to the last floor of the tower.

xxxxxxx 

The party made their way up the stairs and through the door at the top, entering another hall. The last floor was thoroughly tainted with a demonic atmosphere, dimly lit by the mounts of flesh that had covered the previous floor. Blood and dismembered bodies covered the stone, their footsteps making a squishing noise over the gore.

"Maker..." Wynne nearly whimpered, her stomach twisting.

Everil's nose curled in disgust. "It looks like this is where it all started."

She led them cautiously down the corridor, a hand on her weapon as she scanned the shadows for trouble. The area was silent, safe for their footsteps echoing through the empty hall.

As they neared the end of the passage, strange screams cut the silence. The group picked up the pace, drawing their blades, not wanting to be caught off guard like last time. Everil opened the next set of doors and they stopped in their tracks. A barrier surrounded part of the room, and within it several templars lay in a pile of flesh and metal, so torn they could not tell where one body began and another ended.

Next to the mountain of bodies, a single templar knelt upon the floor, rocking back and forth while repeating the Chant of Light between quivering breaths. He looked to be about Alistair's age, blood smeared upon his blonde hair and armor.

Everil slowly approached him, trying not to startle him. "Hey..."

The templar's head snapped up, but as soon as his terrified eyes met hers, he closed them tightly. "I won't fall for your tricks!" He said with an anguished sob. "You broke the others, but you will not break me!"

Wynne sighed. "Cullen? You poor boy... What have they done…?"

Everil returned her attention to the traumatized man. "Calm down. We're not here to hurt you."

"No! It won't work! Be gone demon! Leave me be!" Seeing her still standing before him made him reach up to his head, frustration evident upon his features. "This used to work before! Why are you still here?"

"Because I'm not a demon. Your Knight Commander sent me here. I came to help restore the Circle." She calmly responded.

"I... See." He said with a disturbed look a he slowly stood, his demeanor still somewhat doubtful. "Knight Commander Gregoir?"

She nodded.

"I…It's too late. Everyone..." He swallowed bitterly, his head turning lightly towards the corpses, but he was unable to fully look in their direction.

"But it's not too late for you..." She said softly. "How do we get you out of there?"

"The only way to dispel a barrier is to kill the caster... Uldred." Cullen replied weakly, his eyes narrowing with anger. "He and his accomplices are at the top of those stairs. In the Harrowing chamber."

"Is the First Enchanter with them?"

"He is, yes... Along with other senior mages. But I don't know if they still live..." He swallowed with haunted eyes. "Maker, the screams coming from there...!"

"All right, we will return shortly." She turned to the others. "Let's hurry."

"Wait!" Cullen took a step closer to the barrier, gazing down at her. "You seek to save the First Enchanter...?"

"We do."

"You can't!" He snapped, causing her eyes to grow wide. "You must kill every single mage left in the tower!"

"What?" She scowled. "No. If some yet live I will save them. I won't kill innocent people."

"Innocent? Heh you don't know, do you?" He reached up to scratch his head with a painful expression. "Blood mages can trick you... Reach into your mind and disrupt your thoughts! You wouldn't be able to tell the difference between one and the other. The best way to make sure no blood mage escapes the tower is to kill everyone in that room!"

"He witnessed the death of his comrades…" Alistair folded his arms, regarding the templar with a sympathetic look. "He holds a lot of hatred towards mages now, he won't be able to think clearly."

"I know what I'm talking about!" Cullen protested, glaring at him. "Please just listen to me!"

Everil shook her head with a sigh. "These mages have also suffered. If I were to listen to you, then I wouldn't be much better than those who killed your—

"It's because of them I'm telling you this!" He cut in, his voice strained. "You are about to risk letting a blood mage escape just because of your misguided sympathy!"

"Which is my decision to make, not yours! And I will deal with the consequences later, if I must!" She snapped, effectively silencing him.

"But-!"

"Come! We have wasted enough time here," She told the others as she whirled around, ignoring any further protests from the templar as they stalked towards the stairs.

xxxxxxx 

Blood curling screams cut the air as they ran up the spiral stairs to the Harrowing chamber. Their hearts raced as they panted for breath, hoping they weren't too late. As soon as they reached the top, Alistair and Everil quickly pushed open the heavy doors, rushing into the room as they pulled their weapons.

The large room was barely lit by torches and pillars of stone circled the chamber. Barely any moonlight filtered through the windows, but what little light they had was enough to reveal the atrocities before them.

As they took tentative steps forward, her eyes landed upon the butchered bodies of the mages who now lay dead upon the floor, terrified expressions permanently on their faces. As her gaze travelled along the blood stained floors, they landed upon the one responsible for it all. An abomination slowly rose from the ground, electric power circling it as it focused its gaze upon her.

She felt her jaw tighten. That was likely the man who had been screaming earlier.

"Ah visitors! And Grey Wardens even... to what do I owe the pleasure?" Uldred greeted, his arms open.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked to the surviving mages, tied together in a corner of the room, blood staining their robes. "You know, I was going to ask for an explanation, but I think I'll just kill you now," Everil said coolly and drew an arrow, aiming for him.

"Come now. No need to be hasty. Why don't you put down that weapon and join in our festivities?" He gestured to the three abominations standing around him, their blank stares upon the group. "I can make you quite powerful."

"Not a chance," She replied and let the arrow fly.

It hit the mark, burying itself into his skull. But instead of falling, he released a maniacal laughter, his hands reaching up to his head as he bent over, his blood dripping upon the floor.

"You will regret not taking my offer! I shall turn every mage in this room against you!" He gurgled out as his body started to morph, his bones popping as scales began to replace skin.

Everil slowly lowered her bow, her eyes wide as she watched the mage begin to grow in size. "Well… That's not what was supposed to happen."

The transforming Uldred let out a screech, drawing agonizing screams from the captive mages.

"It's trying to turn them into abominations!" Wynne said urgently, placing a hand on Everil's shoulder. "Give me the Litany! We have to protect Irvin and the others until that monster lies dead!"

She nodded, grabbing the scroll from her bag and handing it to her. "Don't let the bastard notice you."

"Understood." Wynne ran towards the back of the chamber, opening the scroll as she went.

Uldred's body grew, letting out a resounding growl that rattling the windows in the room. It trained its gaze upon them and took a step, the floor shaking slightly under its weight as the three abominations around it began to move along with it.

Everil quickly searched for obvious weaknesses, but only noticed the scales. The monster appeared to be built as a sentinel, armored from head to toe. It was likely going to be difficult to pierce its skin with their blades.

Her head snapped to Morrigan. "Do you have a spell that can weaken armor?"

"I do," She replied sternly. "But it will take time to prime, and you may be affected if caught too close to the creature."

"Use it. We will keep it busy in the meantime."

Morrigan nodded.

Everil readied her dagger and sword, now addressing Alistair. "Let's take out the small ones first."

"Got it!" Alistair charged first, followed by her and then her dog.

The three split up, running around Uldred and going for the abominations.

Alistair went in shield first as the creature cast a fire spell. It bounced off his shield, the flames flowing around him as he cut through them, swinging his sword and slicing its torso. It screeched and slashed with its claws, only to lose an arm as he chopped it off with another swing.

Movement caught the corner of his eye and he quickly looked up to see Uldred's arm come down to swat at him. Alistair rushed the abomination, running it through with his sword as he knocked it onto its back and landed on top, dodging the giant creature's attack in the process. Uldred growled and then raised its arm for another attack. Alistair rolled, taking his sword with him before its giant hand hit the ground, squashing the abomination's corpse into paste and barely missing him.

Magnus sidestepped out of a fireball's path, running at the corrupted mage with his full body weight. He slammed it down fast, his chops closing on its neck like a vise, tearing out its trachea as it gurgled blood.

Everil slid on the floor, kicking the abomination's feet off the ground. She then whirled around and brought her dagger down, stabbing its forehead all the way through. She pushed herself up, looking over towards Alistair. He nodded from the other side of the massive creature, his eyes then shifting to it as he dodged another hit.

Her attention then quickly shifted to Morrigan, who was still standing with eyes closed, her lips moving as she gripped her staff. Everil then glanced towards Wynne and the other mages, seeing the old mage was also locked in chanting with the Litany in her hands.

Everil's gaze then moved up to Uldred, who was slowly turning her way.

She bent her knees and then charged with a cry. The monster swatted at her, and she went low, still running as she dodged it. Her blades quickly clashed against its legs, only to be deflected by its hard skin. She clicked her tongue, then docked again as it tried to grab her. She could hear Alistair attacking from the other side, his sword clanking loudly against the monster's scales.

It lowered its reptilian head, snapping at her with its maws and forcing her to take several steps back. She struck again, sparks flying with each hit she landed. Her hound came up, pouncing on its neck, only to fall back down on its legs as his teeth were also deflected.

Uldred slashed down, trying to slice her with its claws as she swiftly avoided it. Then the creature began to laugh.

"I know your plan, Warden," It cackled and turned its head towards Morrigan, who continued to focus on the spell. "There is only one way to strip my defenses."

Everil's eyes widened, then she noticed her current position. Uldred had slowly lured them away from their mage, leaving her open for an attack.

"Damn it!" She made to run towards her, only to be backhanded by the monster and sent flying, her back roughly bouncing off one of the columns before she breathlessly collapsed to the floor.

"Everil!" Alistair called as he tried to run towards her.

"Don't!" She cried out, stopping him in his tracks as she lifted her torso with shaking arms. "It wants Morrigan!"

His attention snapped to the creature, watching it open its mouth, sparks of electricity materializing within it as it aimed towards the defenseless witch.

Alistair cursed under his breath, turning to run towards her.

Upon hearing her name Morrigan opened her eyes, her gaze landing upon the reptile's form as it fired at her. She was rooted to the spot as she kept mouthing the spell, intent on beating the monster to the punch, but someone's back blocked her view.

Alistair took the hit against his shield, the impact making his feet slide as the electric current burned the metal a bright red, the heat seeping through to his gauntlet.

Morrigan uttered the last words, flames erupting around the demon. She moved her hands in a circular motion, wrapping the flames into a tornado that enveloped it. As the twister of fire intensified, Uldred's armor began to peel off, the heat eating away at it as the smell of cooked flesh began to fill the air. Morrigan felt a bead of sweat slide down, feeling her mana depleting as she focused on the cyclone.

The creature fell on its knees then, breathing out smoke from its nose as the flames slowly died down.

Morrigan lowered her hands, panting heavily as she and Alistair waited for it to fall dead.

Its eyes narrowed at them, electricity crackling around it.

Alistair took a step, ready to finish it when a wet stabbing sound reached their ears. Uldred's eyes grew wide and it fell forward to land heavily upon the ground, revealing Everil's form. Her hands remained around the blade, as the edge impaled the back of its head. Magnus emerged from around the corpse, panting heavily.

Everil's sky blue eyes then moved to her companions, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Good work." She then yanked the sword out of its head and jumped off to the floor.

"You know, maybe we should start a journal for all the weird things we kill along this little journey of ours." Alistair said as he stepped towards her, sheathing his sword. "It would make for a great story to look back on if we survive."

Everil chuckled. "I think that's an excellent idea." She then turned the others. "What do you two think?"

Magnus barked in response, while Morrigan rolled her eyes and she folded her arms. "I believe 'tis a ludicrous idea..." She then smirked. "However, bragging rights remain warranted."

Wynne stepped up to the group, a bearded mage leaning on her with an arm over her shoulders, one she could only assume was Irvin himself.

Everil inwardly sighed with relief, seeing that although bloodied and beaten, the remaining mages had been saved.

"We cannot put into words how grateful we are, Grey Wardens. Without you, the Circle would have been lost." Irvin told them weakly, a small smile on his bloody lips.

"We're not finished yet. We still have to convince the Knight Commander that the Circle has been restored," Everil replied, putting away her weapons. "Else we will all die when the Right of Annulment gets here."

The old sage nodded his head. "Gregoir is not as unreasonable as he appears. Come. Surely he wishes to know I yet live."

As they began to walk he grumbled, limping weakly. "Ugh… Curse the one who decided the Circle be held in a tower."

xxxxxxx 

When they reached the first floor, templar reinforcements had just arrived, gathering outside and awaiting orders. Irvin effortlessly convinced the Knight Commander, who promptly allowed them out of the tower.

Orders were then given to the men, as Gregoir barked out commands. And the army of templars originally summoned to kill every mage inside, was now sent in to rescue survivors and clear the tower of any remaining threats.

Everil and her party watched in silence as the knights made their way into the tower, swords and shields in hand as the metal of their armor clanked with each step.

Morrigan edged closer to Everil. "I shall be waiting outside. I believe I am finished looking at this place."

"All right. Take Magnus with you, he may need a breather himself. The place probably reeks to him. Also, he's parched so please make sure he drinks some water from the lake."

Morrigan's brows shot up. "Wait... Did you just ask me to babysit your drooling beast?"

"Yes." She smiled and reached down to pet the hound's head. "Now go. We will be out shortly."

Everil and Alistair saw the two head out the doors, as Morrigan glanced down at the hound with irritation.

"These mages shouldn't be left alive! There could be maleficar amongst them," Cullen said to his superior, a haunted expression upon his features.

"Irvin has said the Circle is restored. I trust his judgment. There will be no more bloodshed," Gregoir replied, looking down at the younger man.

"But he could be fooling you!"

"I am the Knight Commander here, not you." Gregoir's sharp response left no room for argument. He then motioned for another templar to step closer. "Take him to the healer. He has seen enough today."

The man nodded, patting his disturbed comrade on the shoulder as he led him out of the tower.

Gregoir then turned his attention towards her. "You have proven yourself an ally of both the Circle and the templars, and I now hold a personal debt to you. While Irvin and I don't always see eye to eye, he is a good friend. I thank you all for what you did for us today."

She gave him a solemn nod. "We still need help against the Blight. Would you be able to assist?"

"Unfortunately, I cannot spare any men at this time. But speak to the First Enchanter, he will be the one to provide you with the aid you seek." He motioned to the old man with his head.

"Got it." She extended her hand. "It was a pleasure. Thank you for allowing us to help."

He nodded and shook her forearm firmly, a small smile tugging at a corner of his lips. "The pleasure was mine, Grey Wardens."

They then approached the old man by the entrance to the tower, as Wynne cleaned the wounds upon his face.

"I said I'm all right, girl." He tried to gently push her hands away.

"You look as if someone has used you as a punching dummy, Irvin."

"So what if I do? I am not as fragile as I appear to be." He countered stubbornly.

The Wardens approached the pair, drawing their attention as Wynne set aside the red potion and her bloodied rag.

Irvin smiled warmly at them. "I heard about what happened in Ostagar from Wynne, when she returned the following night. I am... Deeply saddened for Duncan. You have my condolences."

"Thank you... I heard he occasionally visited the Circle," Alistair quietly said.

"Yes. He was one who held mages in high regard despite our... Image." Irvin then sighed with a grateful smile. "It brings me relief to know there are still Grey Wardens in Ferelden, especially now."

"Well... Sort of." Alistair gave a sad smile. "There's only two of us left."

"Which is what brought us here," Everil added, drawing the old man's gaze. "We hate to ask in such an inopportune time, but we need help from the mages against the Blight."

"You have it," He replied without hesitation. "While the Circle may be in disarray and many of us perished tonight, there will be no safe place for our survivors if the Blight engulfs Ferelden."

"Thank you," She said with a solemn nod. "And there is... Something else we need help with at this time. Can you send a group of mages and lyrium to Redcliffe Castle?"

"I could..." Irvin lifted a brow.

She promptly elaborated. "There is a child there who has been possessed by a demon. We need your help to save his life."

"I see." He crossed his arms and ran a hand down his beard. "With lyrium and mages we can enter the Fade and eliminate the demon from within... Yes yes… That would work. We will send mages, and I will be among them."

"I will come along, as well," Wynne told them with a firm look.

Everil's smile widened. "Thank you."

Irvin gave a sharp nod. "Then we leave as soon as possible. Meet us at the castle."

"All right. Be safe on your way to Redcliffe." She said and then turned to Alistair before they began to walk out, leaving the old mages to gather the others around them and begin preparations.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter VIII

Everil watched the tower as they sailed across the lake, the sunrise giving it an eerie glow. That night she learned just how unstable the relationship between the mages and the chantry truly was. She pressed her lips together, shifting her gaze towards the approaching shore, a troubling thought coming to her mind.

 _You can only oppress someone for so long before they turn against you_. Everil thought to herself, recalling the desperation in the blood mage's eyes before she ended her life.

As they stepped off the small boat, Leliana ran up to them, a relieved look upon her face. "Thank the Maker. You were all gone for a while. I feared the worst."

"You should know by now that nothing is ever easy." Everil smiled wearily, then noticed a certain giant was missing. "Where's Sten?"

Leliana shook her head. "I do not know. He stayed out here all night, looking for a… sword. He couldn't have gone far. He said he lost it here in Lake Calenhad."

"Please do not tell me we are about to set off in a hunt for the lost Qunari just after the hell we went through," Morrigan uttered tiredly.

"All right… let's split up and search for him. We must find him fast and head back to Redcliffe," Everil told them, turning stern eyes towards the group.

"Marvelous…" The witch sighed.

They split into two groups, with Everil, Magnus and Morrigan going one way, while Alistair and Leliana went the other. They entered the woods by the lake, the light of the rising sun filtering through the canopy of the trees, providing them with the needed light.

Everil pushed aside the foliage blocking their path, stepping through it as she called out the qunari's name, growing increasingly frustrated thanks to both hunger and exhaustion. The woman behind her was likely feeling the same, as she irritably slapped wandering branches out of the way.

"If the qunari ran off on his own, we should have just let him be," The witch muttered moodily, amber eyes searching the shadows.

"No. He's my responsibility," Everil replied curtly.

"You seem to do that often."

"Do what?" Everil drew her blade, slashing through another bush.

"Take responsibility for inconsequential matters," Morrigan said irritably. "Are you not a Grey Warden? Should you not be more concerned over the Blight than a wandering prisoner?"

"Sten promised to help us. I would say that falls under the 'concerned over the Blight' category," Everik replied, sending a brief look her way before calling out his name again.

Morrigan shook her head hopelessly, following her while silently wondering why she hadn't just stayed behind to wait for them.

There was silence between them as they walked, interrupted only by her yelling of the qunari's name. Everil once again glanced at her over her shoulder, noticing how her cat-like eyes glowed in the shadows. She wondered if she was really human, or if perhaps underneath the facade lay something more.

"Say Morrigan…" Everil began, curiosity getting the best of her. "Is Flemeth really who she seems to be?"

"That depends…" Morrigan raised a brow at the odd question. "Who does she seem to be?"

She paused to think for a moment, then responded. "A nutty old bat."

Morrigan let out a small laugh at her choice of words. "You know, I often wondered this myself. Which brings me to this: Have you heard the tales they say of my Mother? Those legends the chasind tell their children to scare them into obedience."

"I have heard some, yes. But I'm more interested in the truth."

"I could retell both the legend and what Flemeth once told me. Then you may decide which is true. What say you?"

"That sounds like an interesting idea. Go on."

Morrigan nodded, walking next to her as they continued to search for their missing comrade.

"Legend has it Flemeth was once a young and fair maiden in a land filled with barbaric men—the desire of all who saw her. She was the bride of a powerful lord by the name of Conobar, who ruled over these very lands before they were even called Ferelden."

"Then one day, a bard by name of Osen arrived at the castle. Osen and Flemeth fell in love at first sight, and when the fair maiden tried to run away with her lover, Lord Conobar unleashed his ire, killing Osen and locking his bride away in a tower. In her anguish, Flemeth summoned a demon, bringing forth the death of her husband and his people."

Everil frowned at her. "Was that the truth?"

"I am not finished." Morrigan gave her a disapproving look.

She closed her mouth and continued on, listening to her talk.

"The truth is 'twas Osen who was Flemeth's husband, and Conobar the jealous Lord who looked on from afar. Conobar made a deal with Osen, promising him coin and land in exchange for his lovely wife. They were poor folk, with barely any coin to eat, so Osen agreed."

"That sounds like a fair deal," Everil said from over her shoulder.

"Indeed. Or so it would have been, had Conobar kept his end of the bargain," She uttered with distaste. "Soon after the deal, Osen was taken to a field and murdered in cold blood. Flemeth learned of the deed from spirits of the Fade, and swore revenge."

"Was that when she summoned the demon?"

She shook her head. "No…'twas the spirits who helped her kill Conobar and his men. She did not resort to the demon until… much later. She was chased by his allies, you see, deep into the Wilds. There she met the demon, there she became one with it, and it made her strong. She killed everyone who challenged her, and there she remained in hiding, until eventually she became part of the Wilds, as you saw."

"She must be… formidable," Everil said with a pause, swallowing uncomfortably.

"She is, but she is no immortal. A blade to her heart would kill her, just as any, were it lucky enough to find her."

"Do you believe her side of the story?" She looked inquisitively at the witch.

"I do not believe everything my Mother says, as often I feel her bitterness has colored her memories," Morrigan said almost wistfully, a small smile upon her lips. "But I do believe her on this, at least."

"I thought abominations were usually insane horrors. You saw them at the Circle… Can they even reproduce?" Everil asked curiously.

"The key within your question is this 'usually'. How often is this? Always?" Morrigan said. "And I do not know if Flemeth gave birth to me, but she has always treated me as her own flesh and blood. I never questioned this. Yet regardless of the truth, the fact is that there is much upon in this world you or I will never understand."

A faint cry alerted the two, making them look in its direction. Magnus growled, charging forward.

"Magnus, wait!" She followed, as Morrigan ran behind her until they arrived at a small clearing, the hound stopping to bark at the two people standing within it.

Sten was holding a man by his throat, effortlessly lifting him off the ground with one arm.

His intense eyes glared coldly at him. "You dare defile their corpses."

"N-No…! I was only grabbing what I found. I ain't trying to hurt anything!" The man squirmed, struggling to breathe.

"Lies. You took their weapons and armor! You took their souls!"

"Sten!"

He turned his cold eyes towards her. "You."

"Yes me." She replied with a scowl, stalking towards him. "Drop him. Now."

Sten raised his strong chin, staring her down. "He stole what belonged to my brothers and I. He deserves death."

"If you put him down I promise I will help you get back what he stole," She offered, her determined eyes upon him.

The qunari's gaze was locked to hers for a moment, before he slowly lowered the cowering man. The scavenger fell on his rear, a wet stain between his legs as he dragged himself away from his assailant.

She looked up to their companion. "Explain to me why you ran off and why you are now trying to kill a man."

"This is where my brothers and I were attacked by darkspawn. They came out of the ground, killed them and nearly killed me." He said with irritation, trying to restrain his anger. "I…lost my sword here while in battle. Without it I cannot return to my people."

"Why is this?"

"The qunari are born into their professions. We do not choose our paths…as you humans claim you do. I was chosen to wield the sword, and I was given the task to be the vanguard of my people, a member of the Baresaad. We came to seek information on the Blight, to prepare against it. But if I were to return as I am I would be killed on the spot. Without my sword I would be considered a traitor, a warrior without a soul." He uttered, shoulders tense as he spoke.

"I think I understand." She shifted her gaze to the man still sitting on the ground, qunari corpses lying around him. "Start talking. Where are the items you took from these men?"

He gulped. "I sold them to a dwarf in Redcliffe…H-he offered a great deal of coin for them."

"A dwarf in Redcliffe?" Her brows shot up. "Is his name Dwyn?"

He nervously nodded.

She turned her head to Sten. "I know him. I'll take you to him and we'll take back what is yours."

The qunari gave her a silent nod of his head, his stoic expression back upon his face.

xxxxxxx

Exhaustion began settling in on them halfway to Redcliffe, so upon weighing their options, Everil decided it was best to rest than to risk running into darkspawn or other trouble in their condition. The sun had begun to set when they finished setting up camp, shrouding the land in relative darkness. The relaxing sound of a running creek filled the quiet of the woods, water they used to wash off the blood, dirt and grime from their past endeavor.

After eating what Everil and Leliana had brought for them, the group retired to their tents, intent on sleeping the night away as the former nun took the night guard, one she would switch with Sten later that night.

Leliana quietly sat by the fire, looking at the flames as they flickered. It was becoming more and more comforting to spend time around these people she barely knew. Everil had been welcoming, always ensuring she and the others were relatively comfortable with their limited resources.

Movement caught the corner of her eye, drawing her attention as Alistair emerged from his tent, his Grey Warden armor reflecting the light of the flames as he approached the fire.

She frowned worriedly. "I thought you were to sleep until morning."

He sighed, reaching out to warm his hands. "Sometimes it's hard to sleep with all the nightmares."

"Grey Wardens have such a burden to carry. I can understand why it would be difficult to sleep at night."

He chuckled dryly. "If only that were the only reason..."

"There is another?" She asked curiously.

"We have frequent nightmares because of our connection to the darkspawn, and they are much worse during a Blight."

"I see… It must be disconcerting."

He nodded.

"What happened at the Circle of Magi? You all returned covered in blood..." She tilted her head, the red strands of short hair framing her fair features.

He reached up to rub the back of his neck, the memories not exactly helping his already tired mind. "Well... we ended up having to save everyone from impending doom. In this case, it was from abominations, blood mages, and..." He paused and then lifted a finger in mock realization. "Oh! And you can sprinkle some demons into the mix too."

Leliana stared at him in shock. "The Maker himself must have shielded you. I cannot believe you made it back alive."

"I don't know if the Maker had a hand in it, but if it hadn't been for Everil we probably wouldn't be here now."

"I wish I would have been able to come along," Leliana said regrettably.

"Yes, we probably could have used your marksmanship." He gave her a reassuring smile. "But it worked out, no need to feel bad about it. It wasn't as if you refused to go."

"I know… Maybe I can help again next time, no?"

"Yes. I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities ahead," He said with a worn out grin.

The flapping sound of another tent opening made their gaze turn to see Everil emerging from hers, her hound following behind her. But instead of joining them, she began to walk to the edge of the woods.

"It looks like she can't sleep either." Leliana commented worriedly. "And she seemed so sad earlier… I hope she's all right."

Alistair gave her retreating from a concerned look, watching as she walked towards the creek and disappeared behind the foliage.

xxxxxxx

Everil slashed at the air with her blades and then kicked it, imagining the enemy before her. She turned and slashed again, beads of sweat sliding down her skin. Her father's twisted smile haunted her, along with the rest of her family. She slashed again, letting out a faint, yet angry cry as her hound watched her calmly, lying on the ground.

She released a frustrated breath, walking up to a fallen tree trunk by the stream and taking a seat upon it. She stared at the running water, silently marveling at the shimmering moonlight reflecting upon the surface, trying to use the sound to calm her nerves.

Footsteps coming from behind her reached her ears, but Magnus' calm demeanor told her they belonged to a friendly.

Suddenly something red blocked her vision.

"Do you know what this is?"

She turned her head to see Alistair take a seat next to her, still holding the rose in his hand while offering it to her.

Everil gingerly took it, a small smile pulling on her lips as a warm feeling spread through her chest. "Your new weapon of choice?"

He chuckled. "Yes. Fear me darkspawn! I shall smite you with the incredibly destructive power of flower arrangements!"

She laughed lightly.

"Or it could just be a rose. A simple rose..." He uttered, his features softening, the sound of her laughter making him smile. "When I picked it up in Lothering I thought to myself: How can something so beautiful exist in the middle of all this death and ugliness? I couldn't leave it behind. The Blight would have killed it… so I took it with me. I suppose it's kind of silly now that I think about it."

"I don't believe it is..." She said quietly, admiring the beautiful petals.

"You know... in many ways, I think the same thing when I look at you."

Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes met his.

He gazed intently into her sky-blue pools, the shimmering waters reflecting upon his eyes as he spoke softly to her. "I guess… what I'm trying to say is... I also think of you as a rare and wonderful thing to find amidst all this darkness."

She felt her heartbeat quicken, heat rising to her cheeks. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. "Thank you, Alistair. That's a lovely thought..."

"I'm glad you think so… I'm not as good with words as I think I am sometimes." He grinned at her. "Don't tell Morrigan I said that."

She chuckled and tenderly stroked the flower's velvety petals with her index finger, a small smile on her lips. She was used to flattery from noblemen in formal gatherings, but all that had felt more like a formality. Most men who met her were never truly interested on her person, instead they simply wanted her name and the status she once carried. No one had ever said such things to her in such a sincere way. With a dreamy sigh, she leaned her head on his shoulder, enjoying his company as the troubled thoughts from before lingered in her mind.

He stiffened a little at this, not expecting the contact, but then relaxed soon after. "I was hoping that would cheer you up…" He quietly said, a concerned look upon his brow. "I noticed something's been bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?"

 **"** Yes I..." She uttered, her smile fading as the familiar knot formed in her throat. "I suppose I'm having a hard time dealing with the nightmare that demon forced upon me."

"What was it about?"

"My family…"

A sympathetic look dawned upon him. "Oh…"

"For some reason that nightmare made me feel... very lonely," She admitted with eyes downcast. She wasn't used to showing weakness to anyone, but for some reason she felt she could drop her defenses around him. _At least this once..._ She thought stubbornly.

"I understand… I felt the same for minute there when I saw Duncan in my dream. But just as you said to me then... You have me."

She looked up at him with slight surprise.

He half-smiled. "It may not be the same as having your family back, but you can lean on me like this any time. I'll be there when you need me."

She allowed herself to smile back, his words nearly bringing tears to her eyes. "So... you're not just a bastard Prince, but also a Prince Charming?"

His brows went up. "Is that how you see me now? Wow... I didn't think I could ever pull that off. Most women just roll their eyes at me."

"Well I'm not like 'most women'..." She said, giving him a sweet smile.

"No. You're not…" He said softly, his smile widening.

They then turned their gaze from to the creek and a comfortable silence then befell them as they sat together, watching the water roll over the rocks and listening to its soothing music. Being so close to him allowed her to take in his scent, a mix of grass, oak and leather. She glanced up at his profile from the corner of her eyes, marveling at his handsome features.

She found herself wondering why he was being so sweet to her, and why her heart was currently ramming against her chest at his proximity. She had flirted with him before, but the playful banter had simply been an attempt to relieve some of the tension their journey caused. Now she suddenly felt drawn to him, in more ways than one. She wanted to touch him, to feel his lips against hers without interruptions, to be in his arms again.

Realization dawned upon her, her eyes widening a fraction as she looked away. _Andraste... am I falling for this man?_

But what if he had simply been saying the things he did out of kindness?

 _He said he was trying to make me feel better…_

And what if he did have a lover she didn't know about? He had lived in a monastery for the most part, right? Still that did not mean he may not have someone else waiting for him. He yet may have a woman he left behind upon being recruited by Duncan. She didn't see anything of the sort in his dream in the fade, but that was not a guarantee.

 _Why am I so worried about this? Still… I want to know._

She swallowed, then uttered timidly. "Hey Alistair..."

"Hm?"

"While you were at the monastery... Did you ever...?"

He raised a brow at her. "Did I ever… what…?"

"Did you ever have... have sex with anyone?"

His eyes grew wide at the unexpected question, heat quickly rising to his ears. "H-how in the world did our earlier conversation bring about this question?"

"My apologies…" She uttered, bashfully looking away.

The disappointed look on her features told him she wasn't joking, that she genuinely wanted to know. He wondered why, but regardless of her reasons he figured it would do no harm to oblige.

"It's fine… I just…never had a woman just come out and ask me like that." He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, trying to put together the right words in his mind. "I uh… never had the pleasure. Not that I never thought about it..."

"So… you didn't leave some heartbroken nun or female templar behind?" She smiled playfully up at him.

He chuckled. "No, I didn't. They were too busy hating me."

An odd feeling of relief filler her then, but as she repeated his words in her mind she realized something.

"Oh!" She gasped. "That means you're a virgin… That's so cute!"

He smiled hopelessly, unsure about whether to feel insulted or flattered by her choice of words. "Cute...? I guess I should feel lucky it's you saying that."

She chuckled at the look on his face, feeling a little guilty at having placed him in such an embarrassing situation.

"I'm sorry… To make it up to you I will tell you my own secret." She muttered, gazing up at him through her lashes. "I'm… also chaste."

He cleared his throat, his curiosity piqued despite his nerves. "Really? I thought you and Ser Gilmore..."

Everil shook her head. "No. He and I shared some moments, but they never went far. He made it clear I was his lord's daughter and that our worlds were too far apart for us to be together."

She tugged a strand of hair behind her ear, a sad look flickering in her eyes. "I did care for him, and he obviously still cared for me, but love was no longer a factor in our relationship when he... died."

"I see… I'm sorry I brought that up again."

"It's all right... I feel better now." She gave him a reassuring grin and then pushed herself to her feet. "At any rate, perhaps we should go try to sleep the rest of the night. We need what little rest we can get."

"I agree." He stood with huff.

He dreaded sleep, but she was right, they had another long day of walking ahead of them.

Something soft then touched his cheek as she kissed him, catching him off guard and making him turn surprised eyes to her.

"Thank you again for the beautiful rose, Alistair…" She uttered softly as she gazed gently up at him. "Good night…"

"Good night…" He breathed, frozen to the spot as he watched her walk away, followed by her hound.

His eyes trailed over her body, taking in the subtle sway of her hips with each step she took.

 _Maker's breath…_ He thought breathlessly, wondering what it would be like to see her body without armor. Alistair shook his head, inwardly chastising himself.

Letting out a soft breath, he made his way back to camp, silently hoping his unclean thoughts wouldn't rob him of the few hours of sleep he would get.

xxxxxxx

Upon arriving to Redcliffe they promptly made their way to the castle, where Bann Teagan anxiously greeted them by the gates.

"Welcome back, friends." He offered them a kind smile. "The mages are already here and have been awaiting your arrival."

"Good. Has Connor caused any trouble in our absence?" Everil asked as she and the rest of her group followed him towards the main hall.

"Jowan helped keep him sedated since you left. So no…nothing has changed, for better or worse," Teagan morosely responded.

They entered the hall while Jowan, Irvin and Wynne stood at the center along with other men in robes.

"Ah Grey Wardens, it is good to see you have made it here safely," Irvin said, turning to them as they approached. "Now that we are all present we can begin the exorcism. Jowan has already explained everything to us. Which brings me to say that I am glad you sought us out for this—" The sage mage gave Jowan a meaningful look. "—as it is partly our responsibility."

Jowan shrunk under the old man's condemning stare, saying nothing.

"Thank you for coming all the way here to help." Everil bowed her head lightly.

Irvin chuckled, his old voice cracking. "Perhaps you should save those thanks for after we have saved the boy. Where is he? We will need to be near him for us to enter his dreams."

Teagan motioned for the door to the family quarters. "Please follow me, I shall take you to him."

Everil left the qunari and her hound in the hall as they headed towards the family quarters.

A heavy atmosphere shrouded Connor's room, where he still lay tied to his bed. Isolde knelt next to him, her hands holding the boy's, an afflicted look upon her face. She gazed up to watch them enter, her eyes filling with hope.

"Thank the Maker. Will you now help save my boy?" She stood, walking around his bed to meet them.

"We will do our best, your ladyship," Irvin replied before gesturing for the mages to prepare the lyrium. A small fount was placed at the center of the room, where the liquid was poured. He then shifted his attention to Everil.

"We only brought enough lyrium for one mage to go into the Fade. The mage will have to fight and vanquish the demon from within to save the child."

"Can any mage go in?"

"Yes, but I suggest it be a mage with a strong will. Demons have a way to manipulate one's mind, especially those powerful enough to bring upon what has happened here."

"In that case…" She turned to Morrigan. "Morrigan, you will go into the Fade. You're the only one I know will not be swayed by a demon."

The witch folded her arms with an approving look. "A wise choice."

"We will begin when you are ready." The First Enchanter walked to stand around the fount, along with Wynne and the other mages.

"Be careful in there, Morrigan," Everil told her, her tone making the words come out as more of an order than a request. "While I know you won't be manipulated by that thing, you'll have to fight it on your own. Don't take it lightly."

"I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. All she has to do is look at it and it'll shrivel up and die," Alistair said mockingly.

"Perhaps I shall try it with you first. Then I would no longer be forced to listen to your moronic comments," Morrigan countered, sending him a dirty look.

"Now, now…" Leliana stepped between them with a chastising click of her tongue, as if they were two misbehaving children. "This isn't the time."

Morrigan dismissively waved them off with a huff, walking to the mages to do her bidding.

Everil hopelessly rolled her eyes, folding her arms as she watched the witch step into the circle of mages. "I mean it, Morrigan. Don't underestimate it."

"Yes, I heard you, Warden," She said moodily, and then sent her a smirk. It was strange to see someone so concerned over her safety.

She had lacked friends growing up, so the very concept of having that sort of relationship was difficult to her. She still didn't agree with many of her decisions, or her constant need to help the weak when there were obviously bigger things at stake. But if there was anything she knew about it now, it was that she trusted this woman and that her caring, yet strong personality was beginning to grow on her.

Soon the blue light of lyrium filled the room, and she closed her eyes, welcoming its warmth as she was slowly cast into the familiar world of the dead.

xxxxxxx

The Fade: Dreaded by most as the world where the dead went and where demons resided, yet visited by mages in their sleep. It was a place she was used to seeing, one her mother taught her not to fear, but to respect.

Morrigan wasn't particularly fond of it, but she found it interesting to explore, knowing it likely held many secrets most wouldn't dare discover.

She made her way down the rocky slope, the faint cries of a child echoing in the distance. She followed it, staff in hand, walking past pillars of rock as she gazed on towards the distance, taking note of the floating masses of land as green and yellow as the clouds churning around them. She looked over the edge by where she stood, seeing she was standing upon one, as there was nothing but a void below.

The cries grew louder as she continued to walk, when someone's spirit passed her by, making her pause. It held the shape of an older man, pacing restlessly.

"Connor! Where are you, son?" He called out, his voice filled with concern.

"Ah... You must be this Arl Eamon the others mentioned," She uttered mostly to herself, noticing the man was in limbo, unable to see her as he desperately continued to call out the boy's name. "The demon must have them both trapped." She turned her eyes up as the trail ahead became an uphill climb, random objects from the castle floating about, a poor attempt from the demon to recreate the boy's world.

Morrigan kept moving, intent on getting this over with and returning to the world of the living. A small bedroom soon came into view, and as she stepped closer, a child's form materialized beside the bed. Connor hummed to himself, staring off into space with a vacant expression.

She approached him, drawing his attention.

"Are you here to play with me?" He asked innocently.

She gave him a cold look. "I have no time for games, child. Where is the demon?"

His face quickly twisted into anger, surprising even her.

"Then you came to take my father away from me! I won't let you!" He glared heatedly at her, tears threatening to spill over his eyes before he turned on his heel and began to run.

She sighed irritably, following him at walking pace, knowing he had nowhere to go but within his own dream. Soon she ran into another, identical bedroom, the child again standing by his bed, humming to himself.

"You little fool. You have no idea what you've done to yourself and those around you," She uttered with a scowl.

He turned rebellious eyes to her. "I'm warning you, woman. Leave here now or it will go badly for you."

"I will do no such thing. Now tell me where the demon is." She took a step towards him.

He took a step back with frightened eyes. "No! I won't let you take my father!"

Connor ran again, nearly tripping on his feet. Morrigan walked with purpose this time, already sick of the games.

He lured her further in and into a wide area, arcane symbols scattered over the ground. He kept running, nearing a demon with a female form that stood at the center.

"She wants to take Father away!" He wrapped his arms around her small waist, crying against her bare stomach as she slowly wrapped its purple arms around him.

"You dare disturb my child's slumber?" The creature's seductive voice reached her ears as Morrigan neared the two.

Morrigan's eyes narrowed. "Release the boy, wretch."

"I would watch my tongue if I were you, human. I rule over the very ground upon which you now stand." It narrowed its cat-looking eyes at her. "The boy and I have an agreement. I give him what he wishes by keeping his ailing father alive, and in return I have my fun. I shall not leave here without obtaining what is owed to me in exchange for my efforts. So if you wish for me to release him, you must bargain with me."

Morrigan scoffed, folding her arms. "Do you take me for a fool? I know better than to make deals with your kind."

"Come now… humans always want something." The demon smirked, her fangs poking out of the corner of her enticing lips. "Allow me to remain with the boy and I will pretend you killed me. I shall lie dormant and wait for the right time to take him and his town while you play the hero. In exchange for this simple request, I shall give you anything you wish. What say you?"

Morrigan chuckled, her amber eyes filled with laughter.

"You find my words amusing?" She growled.

"No. Your pathetic existence amuses me. You are nothing but a low level demon that happened to come across easy prey. Yet you boast about your powers? Do not pretend you can grant me my wishes, for what I want can only be given to me by own hand." Morrigan smirked back at her before shooting a jolt of electricity towards the creature. It jumped back, dodging and distancing itself from the child.

"You…" The demon bit out, its claws extending into sharp point.

The mage rushed forward, grabbing the petrified Connor by the back of his shirt, and shoving him behind her as the demon attempted to slice at him. Morrigan blocked the hit with her staff and then uttered a quick spell, shrouding the demon in flames.

It jumped back with a cry before it began to split, replicating its image into several copies of itself, surrounding both she and the child.

Morrigan scowled. This was its world and it could use it to fool her. The real demon then cast a spell, shooting electricity towards Connor. The witch clicked her tongue, throwing herself upon the boy and covering his body with hers.

xxxxxxx

Everil leaned against the wall by the doorway, arms crossed as she observed Morrigan's still form at the center of the chanting mages, different scenarios floating within her head. If she saw any indication that her friend would lose the fight, she would be forced to kill Connor to save both her and Redcliffe. It was not something that sat well with her, despite her earlier attempt to end his life.

She turned her eyes to Isolde, who was anxiously wringing part of her skirt between her hands, her eyes red from all the tears shed. While she wasn't all that fond of the woman, the image made her chest tighten lightly.

Leliana approached the arlessa, placing a gentle hand over her shoulder.

"Come my lady, let us pray to the Maker."

Isolde nodded numbly, and they knelt beside the boy's bed. Everil watched her slightly relax as she closed her eyes and began to repeat the Chant of Light. She was grateful Leliana offered to come with her and help keep the calm, while she was having trouble keeping herself from pacing.

"Don't worry."

She turned her eyes to Alistair as he crossed his arms next to her, his gaze upon the mages. "I may not like Morrigan, but that little display at the Circle was impressive. She'll manage."

She sighed. "I suppose you're right."

If there was anything they both knew about the witch, it was that she was never one to flaunt powers she did not possess. She sent her in, now she had to trust in her and in her abilities.

xxxxxxx

Morrigan pushed herself up, gritting her teeth, her muscles burning from the shock. She stood, shooting the demon a heated glare before casting another spell. Her hand lit up into flames and she swung her arm, flinging a ball of fire towards the creature.

It cried out, desperately trying to put away the flames as it began to multiply again.

"Blasted damnation..." She muttered irritably, eyes searching for the real demon as it began to spread into a circle around them.

Connor looked up at her with fearful eyes, moving closer to her.

"What? Are you finally coming to your senses, fool boy?" She glanced at him with an annoyed look.

He swallowed. "She's scaring me..."

"Good. That should teach you a lesson."

"Give him back to me!" The demon's copies then moved in, using its claws. Morrigan cast another spell, releasing a wave of ice and mist that froze the clones. She then swung her staff, shattering them into pieces as the real one began to slash at her, forcing her to block.

Mages were not good in armed combat, but defense was key to staying alive and she was trained in it better than any Circle mage.

The demon slashed at her again, this time with more force, making her stumble back. It kept swinging as Morrigan blocked each hit, eyes focused upon its movements as she was slowly driven away from the kid. She dodged a hit, throwing the demon off balance and producing an opening. She cast another spell, lighting her hand on fire and pressing it against its face.

"Ah! You whore!" It cries out as it covered its burning face. The mage then cast another fire spell, enveloping the creature in flames as it cried out in agony. It growled, setting its sights upon the now defenseless child.

Morrigan turned to the boy, too far away to protect him. "Run!"

Connor nodded shakily, turning on his heels.

Its flesh blistered with the heat, blood oozing from it wounds, but it dashed forth anyway, a savage snarl upon its burnt face. "I shall devour you now, mortal!"

Morrigan brought her hand up, summoning a sheet of ice that quickly enveloped the demon, halting it before it reached the quivering Connor.

"What…?" It struggled to break free, hissing at her. "You used him as bait!"

"A trick I learned long ago..." Morrigan smirked, and then lifted her hand up higher, making the ice spread past its neck. She closed her fist then and the ice shattered, breaking the creature into pieces.

xxxxxxx

A slight whimper coming from Connor drew everyone's attention as he stirred, his face scrunching up as the light in the room reached him.

Isolde's eyes widened, leaning over his bed expectantly. "Connor?"

Everil pressed her lips together and took a step to the bed, her hand tentatively reaching over her shoulder to grip her dagger.

"Mother?" He uttered groggily, his brown eyes fluttering open. "I had a strange dream…"

"Oh Connor!" Isolde wrapped her arms around him, bringing him up for a tight hug as tears of happiness streamed down her flushed cheeks.

"Thank the Maker," Leliana uttered as she stood from her kneeling position by the boy's bed.

Everil's grip loosened and she lowered her hand, releasing the breath she had been holding. She then shifted her attention to the mages as she approached them.

They ceased their chanting as the blue glow of the lyrium slowly dissipated. They stepped away from Morrigan, letting the Warden step closer to her companion.

The witch collapsed then, falling forward into her arms as they quickly wrapped around her lithe form.

"Morrigan!" Everil called out with a startled look, slowly lowering her limp form to a kneeling position on the floor. She had sent the woman in and told her to risk her life, to help people she didn't even know. If anything happened to her…

"No need to worry, child. She is only exhausted. A few hours of sleep and your friend will be just fine," Wynne told her, looking down at her with a gentle smile.

"Thank you…" Everil glanced at her with relief and then turned her attention to Bann Teagan. "I need a room for her."

He nodded. "There are several empty rooms down the hall. You can use whichever one you wish. The mages and I will go see to Eamon in the meanwhile, please meet us in his room once you're ready. Alistair will know the way."

"All right. Thank you."

She turned around, leaning the slumbering mage against her back. She wrapped her arms behind her knees, hoisting her up to carry her on piggyback.

"Do you need me to help you?" Alistair offered as both he and Leliana followed her to the door.

"No. I've got her." She replied firmly.

The three then walked down the hallway, her companions following her while looking for the nearest room.

Leliana leaned over to him, whispering to him. "She is quite the caring person, no?"

"Yes… she is." He nodded, a gentle look settling upon his features.

Yes she was their leader, but with leadership also came responsibility over their lives. One he was sure she took very seriously. She probably felt guilty for sending Morrigan in to help Connor.

Upon reaching the room she carefully laid Morrigan down on the large bed, taking her staff and leaning it against the wall. She sighed, eyeing her slumbering companion one last time before turning to Leliana.

"Stay with her and seek us out when she wakes," Everil ordered gently.

The former nun nodded. "I will."

"Thank you, Leliana. And thanks for keeping Isolde from breaking down back there. It made the situation much easier to handle," Everil said with a small smile, patting her shoulder.

Leliana smiled, blushing slightly. "Of course. I can do much more than just shoot arrows, you know."

"Oh I'm sure of it." Everil winked at her, making the woman's blush intensify.

With another pat to her arm, Everil headed for the door and the two Wardens made their way back through the hall, with Alistair leading the way this time. She noticed the heavy atmosphere in the castle had slightly lifted, but still something lingered. She could only hope that the arl recovered just as his son did.

The door was already open when they arrived, the sound of conversation reaching their ears. Alistair hesitated by the doorway, pausing with stiff shoulders. He hadn't seen the arl since childhood, and although he was worried about his condition, he was dreading talking to him. He inwardly hoped he was not angry with him over all the times he threw his kindness back at his face after having been sent away. Over all the angry words he spat at him before he was taken to the Chantry.

A hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his troubling thoughts.

"It'll be all right," She said next to him, a corner of her lips rising before she took the last steps and entered the room.

He let out a breath and followed her. What was important was knowing if the arl was well.

Teagan stood over his older brother's bed, a grim look upon him. Isolde sat at the edge, her hand gently stroking the grey hairs of her husband as the First Enchanter examined him.

"There is no longer magic involved, but the man remains comatose," Irvin said with a shake of his head, turning to Everil. "I cannot do anything more for him. I am sorry."

Her brow furrowed. "I see… Thank you for trying. Still, your help against the demon is greatly appreciated."

Alistair closed his hands into fists, eyeing Eamon's still form from afar, concern etched upon his features.

"It was our privilege to lend you aid. Now, if you'll excuse us, we should return to the Circle. We have much to rebuild before we face the Blight," Irvin said with a firm gaze.

"Irvin… I have a request." Wynne stepped forth towards the sage. "I would like to remain with the Grey Warden. She is a good woman and I'm sure she will need assistance in her travels."

Everil's eyebrows shot up.

Irvin gave the mage a conflicted look. "Wynne, the Circle needs you."

"The Circle will be fine without me. The Circle has you." She smiled gently. "And I can still help by battling the Blight from here. Why remain in the Circle, when I can be of better use elsewhere?"

"But this could prove too dangerous... Are you sure of this?"

"We will make sure no harm comes to her. You have my word," Everil said as she folded her arms, confidence in her eyes.

"Then you have my leave to stay and help the Grey Wardens." He gently placed a hand on Wynne's shoulder. "Just know the Circle will always be your home, should you ever decide to return."

"I know," She replied with a smile.

"What about Jowan? Will you be taking him with you?" Everil questioned, noticing the blood mage's absence.

Irvin shook his head. "While he was once one of ours, he is a criminal here. It is up to the arl and his family to decide his fate. If he is sent to us by him, then we will do what is necessary to ensure he is punished for his crimes."

She pressed her lips into a line. The mage had tried to seek repentance by helping her, but those he wronged may not be as forgiving as she was. "I understand. I wish you safe travels."

Irvin gave her a grateful tilt of his head before he gathered his mages, leaving the arl's quarters. Wynne followed them to finish saying her goodbyes and to gather her things from their carriage.

Teagan walked around the bed. "It looks like we'll need to find another way to help Eamon."

"The Urn of Sacred Ashes…"

They turned their eyes towards Isolde, who remained sitting by her husband. "The Urn will surely help Eamon."

"Is that not the Urn holding Andraste's Ashes?" Everil inquired.

"It is." Isolde lifted herself from the mattress, taking a piece of paper from her belt and handing it to her. "The Urn is said to hold miraculous healing properties."

Everil read over the document.

"I sent my knights in search for it when Eamon fell ill, but only a few of them returned. Those who returned found nothing but legends, but I am certain it exists." She clasped her hands together. "The only lead we have is a man by the name of Genitivy. He is a scholar who lives in Denerim."

Everil frowned. "Is this the only option we have?"

Isolde hopelessly looked down at her hands. "It is the only one we know of... I know you have already done much for us, but Eamon-"

"We'll do it."

They turned their eyes to Alistair, Everil's eyes widening slightly.

"We'll seek out the Urn," He said firmly.

A hopeful Isolde took a step, gaze shifting from Alistair to Everil. "Really?"

Alistair gave his fellow Warden a similar look.

She tilted her head to Isolde, gesturing to him. "You heard the man."

She was usually the one making the big decisions, but she could understand his reasons behind stepping in. She actually welcomed it, considering they actually shared a lot of the responsibility.

"Oh. Thank you!" Isolde gave both of them a grateful look, eyes tearing up.

"While I know Eamon needs the Urn as soon as possible, I suggest you spend the night here," Teagan offered solemnly to the two. "We will be holding a ceremony first thing tomorrow… for those we lost. I'm sure the remaining villagers would appreciate the presence of those who saved their lives."

"Yes. That sounds like a good idea," She said as she smiled lightly. "I have to tend to some business in the village anyway. I guess I'll go take care of it while there's still light out."

"It's settled then. You and your friends may sleep in the vacant rooms you saw on your way here. Alistair, before you go, I need to talk to you." Teagan walked up to him, motioning for him to follow as he headed for the door.

Alistair gave Everil a hesitant look.

She smiled. "Go. If it's something I need to know about, you can tell me me later."

He nodded. "All right... Then I guess I'll see you later."

She watched him go as he followed Teagan down the hall.

"He has calmed down much," Isolde commented quietly, drawing her attention.

"Do you mean Alistair?"

"Yes. He used to be so rebellious when he was younger. I do not blame him, however. It was my fault he acted that way. I made his life so difficult..." Isolde's lips spread into a sad smile.

"So I heard..." Everil replied, folding her arms. "But he doesn't begrudge you for it. There is no need to dwell on it now."

"Yes... I suppose there is not much I can do for him now."

"No, there is not." She sighed.

"I… I can see the two of you are close, so at least he's no longer alone." Isolde smiled, then headed for the door. "I must go check on my son. Please make yourselves at home. It's the least we can do for you."

Everil tilted her head with a firm look. She hadn't realized they gave others that impression, though they had become nearly inseparable, always working together or leaning on each other for support. They were the only two Grey Wardens left, so even with the additional help they picked up along the way, it still felt as if they had no one but each other to lean on.

She smiled lightly, shaking her head. There was too much to do to stand around daydreaming. She turned to leave, when something shimmering from the corner of her eyes caught her attention.

On the nightstand next to the arl's bed sat a piece of jewelry, carelessly left out in the open. She walked up to it, recognizing the pendant as Andraste's symbol.

"Could this be…" She reached down to it, wrapping her lithe fingers around it. Her surprised gaze moved to the arl's slumbering form. "You fixed it, didn't you?" She murmured. "You fixed it and kept it for him."

Of course she received no response, but she took the pendant and stashed it in her bag. "I will return it to him for you, then when you wake up, you can talk to him again. I promise."

With that she turned on her heel, walking out of the room.

xxxxxxx

Teagan approached a half-melted candle sitting upon the wide, oak wood desk at the center of the room. With a flint, he lit the small flame, illuminating the study enough to show the vast collection of books and maps lining the walls.

Alistair wistfully scanned the room, memories flooding his mind as he gently closed the door behind him.

"I had heard of the younger Cousland's beauty and talents, but now I find the rumors did not do her justice," Teagan said with a chuckle, glancing his way. "You are a fortunate man to be able to work with her… Even I would gladly follow her to danger."

Alistair smiled. "Yes. She has a way of drawing people in."

"She is a natural leader, yes. But in my case, I find myself drawn to her for other reasons," Teagan uttered and he didn't miss the glint of irritation that crossed the other man's eyes at his words. He smirked lightly. "So I cannot help but wonder… do you think of her the same way I do?"

Alistair folded his arms. "She's been through much and still manages to stand tall and lead us through difficult situations. Of course she's worthy of admiration."

"Is that all? You don't find yourself attracted to her?"

Alistair's pause earned him a teasing smile from the bann.

"Ah so I'm not the only one after all. I suppose I should watch myself."

Alistair's frowned irritably. "Did you bring me here just to talk about this? Because I have other, more important things I should be doing right now."

"No need to get so defensive. I was merely trying to make an observation." Teagan raised his hands before him in defense. "At any rate, I wanted to tell you that after you left for the Circle one of my messengers returned with news from Denerim. Things are growing worse in the royal capital."

"What's happening?" Alistair stepped closer, as Teagan pulled a map of Ferelden from the shelves and laid it upon the table.

"Loghain has declared himself Queen Anora's regent. He has been trying to unify us under his banner in order to fight what he calls a 'large darkspawn raid'. But after what happened in Ostagar, the bannorn is enraged. They're demanding justice and for Loghain to step down from the throne." Teagan's distaste for the former war hero showed in his tone, his features hardening. "Of course he refuses..."

"Don't tell me a civil war is about to break out," Alistair uttered with a frown.

Teagan gave him a somber look. "It already has."

Alistair smiled dryly. "As if Ferelden didn't have enough problems with the Blight."

"The battles are mostly taking place on the open fields of the north. So you and Lady Everil will need to be mindful of this on your way to Denerim, to avoid running into the center of the conflict." He pointed to locations on the map. "Another issue to consider is that Loghain knows you two are alive and has placed a bounty on your heads. You may want to avoid announcing yourselves as Grey Wardens while you're there."

"Good to know. Though I expected that." Alistair gave him a questioning look. "Why is it Everil couldn't join us? She sort of needs to know all this too, you know."

Teagan looked up from the map. "Does she know about your bloodline?"

Alistair directed a confused look towards him. "Yes, I told her. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Sooner or later someone will need to bring order to Ferelden's political turmoil, which is truly what I wanted to talk to you about," Teagan quietly said, giving him a firm look. "If… or when Loghain steps down, the throne will remain vacant and –"

"Stop right there."

The bann's brows shot up.

Alistair's sharp gaze met his. "Let me make this clear now: I have no interest in the throne."

Teagan's brow furrowed. "But Alistair—"

"As a matter of fact, I think I would do a terrible job at it. I think Arl Eamon would be better qualified."

"What if Eamon never wakes up, Alistair? What if the Urn doesn't exist or cannot be found?" Teagan uttered, a slightly disappointed look in his eyes. "You must think about these things, even if you don't like the idea."

He swallowed at the possibility, but insisted stubbornly. "Then find someone else. Or better yet, why don't you take the responsibility? You're Cailan's uncle. I'm sure no one would argue if you stepped up to it."

Teagan let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. "I must say, I am a little relieved Eamon isn't here to hear you talk like this."

"You know better than anyone I wasn't brought up to be King, Teagan. The very idea of inheriting anything of my Father's was kept out of my mind since before I found out who he was," Alistair said with a scowl, suddenly feeling angry at the situation. "I was even cast aside every time my bloodline became an inconvenience, that or I was treated differently by anyone who knew… I hate how it's shaped my entire life."

"I understand, but regardless of your wants you have to carry the burden and make sacrifices. There's nothing you can do to make it go away, no matter how hard you try to ignore it."

"I'm a Grey Warden. I know all about burden and sacrifice," Alistair replied angrily, his hands closing into fists. "And no, I may not be able to make my royal blood go away, but there's no way anyone can force me to accept it."

With that, Alistair turned on his heel, stalking to the door.

"Alistair-"

"Thanks for the information," He muttered before slamming the door behind him, leaving a perplexed Teagan behind.

xxxxxxx

The village seemed to be in lighter spirits, despite the grim looks upon their faces. They had already heard of their success against the demon that once occupied the castle. Now they focused on dressing the dead for their funeral, laying the bodied in neat rows by the lakeshore as the fishermen built small boats to be used as their caskets.

If the impending darkspawn invasion were not threatening the rest of Ferelden, she would be pleased to say they had nothing more to fear.

Sten and her hound followed her down the hill from the castle to the village below, as she surveyed the damage caused by the last battle they held outside. Some villagers waved at her as they passed them by, others giving Sten fearful glances.

She chuckled at their reaction. It was probably strange to them to see a qunari walking around. Most common folk didn't even know they existed or how they looked like.

The titanic man didn't make it any easier however, his stoic expression and stiff posture were not exactly inviting. He hardly ever talked and often responded to queries with curt remarks, grunts or groans, as if the action of involving himself in any kind of social interaction with her or anyone else were the very definition of torture. But one good thing she could say was that whenever she gave an order, he followed it without question. She figured perhaps it was the military training instilled in him, that and he probably felt he owed her for releasing him from the cage where he would have inevitably become darkspawn food.

Everil led them to Dwayn's shack, noticing with a half-smile that the door had been clumsily set back in place by the dwarf.

She reached up and knocked.

No response.

She sighed, before knocking again. "Dwyn, I know you're in there. Open the door. I have something to discuss with you."

"Scram Warden." He grumbled from within. "I did my good deed, there's nothing more to talk about."

"Don't make me break this door, Dwyn. I would hate for you to have to fix it again," She said as she folded her arms, a playful smirk on her face.

Sten glanced down at her, wondering what it was that amused her so.

"All right!"

The sound of a lock turning on the other side of the door reached her ears, seeing it open as Dwyns grumpy face poked out from around it.

"What do you-!" He quickly looked up, craning his head up to the point he almost fell over, eyes widening as they met Sten's cold stare.

"You may have something my friend here needs. We're looking for a blade that is likely three times as tall as you are." Her smile vanished, showing him she wasn't willing to be patient this time.

He scoffed. "Well I don't have it!"

"A man in Lake Calenhad says otherwise, Dwyne."

He gulped, brows meeting at the bridge of his plump nose. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"So you want to be difficult…" Everil craned her head to Sten, gesturing to the dwarf with her head. "Sten, show him what a qunari can do."

Sten took a step, drew back his arm and thrusted forth, punching the door off the hinges and nearly taking the dwarf out along with it. Dwyne's eyes trailed down to the door in astonishment, fear slowly beginning to settle in.

"If you don't want him to do the same to your miserable mug, you might want to start telling us the truth," Everil said calmly, staring him down.

"Fine, fine!" He stiffly waved her off, turning away to walk back into his shed. "Yes, I did own an unusually large blade at one point. But I no longer have it."

"All right, where is it?"

"I sold it to a dwarf who also sells goods in Orzammar. He sounded like he was interested in keeping it, so he may still have it. You will find him on the surface, by the city gates."

"Orzammar." She repeated with a thoughtful look before turning her eyes up to Sten. "That's the dwarven kingdom, northwest from here. I can't tell you when exactly, but we will eventually be going there to ask the dwarves for help with the Blight. Can you wait until then?"

"I would prefer to obtain my sword sooner, but I will do what you think is necessary." He replied stiffly.

She pinned Dwyne with a look one more time. "Thanks for telling us. Have a nice rest of your day."

The dwarf huffed and watched them leave, relieved at not having to talk to her anymore. He grumbled obscenities, reaching down to pick up his door.

As they walked down the wooden planks leading away from Dwyne's house, Everil reached into her side pouch, pulling out a small bag that jingled with the sound of coins. She opened it and gave the contents a quick look. "While we are down here let us stock up on supplies for the next trip. I need more arrows."

"You make no sense to me."

She stopped in her tracks and looked up at him. "What?"

"You make no sense. Women fighting is... Wrong. Women are usually priests or cooks, they do not fight." He eyed her critically, his seemingly permanent frown deepening.

Everil had heard things like this before about her gender, but the way he said it sounded as if her ability to fight was just not supposed to exist.

She gave him a quizzical stare. "Is that how it is for your people?"

"Yes."

"Does that mean you do not choose your paths in life?" She tilted her head.

He grunted irritably. "There is no 'path'. One is born as one is. You cannot choose to be elf, human or ... dwarf. You cannot choose the talents you receive upon your birth. As you stand now, I see it is impossible for you to be a woman."

She raised a brow. "What? I can't be a woman because I fight?"

"Yes. Which is what puzzles me. What are you?"

She let out a giggle that drew another confused look from her hulking companion. She wasn't trying to insult the man, but she imagined his point of view on things likely made Ferelden out to be some strange world he could never hope to comprehend.

"I'm still a woman, Sten. In Ferelden you have the choice to follow your own ambitions. For example..." She gestured to one of the fishermen who was currently putting together a net.

"That man can choose to serve the arl as a soldier if he wants to, or he can remain a fisherman. Just like I can choose to be a warrior even if I'm a woman."

"No… becoming a soldier would just make him a fisherman turned soldier," He replied, looking down at her as if she were stupid. "Why carry more weight upon your back like turtles carry their shells? You could fall upon your back as they do and never get back up."

She shrugged a shoulder. "The way I see it, the shell makes the turtle stronger."

Her response made his brows go up. "Hmph… perhaps."

She smiled and continued walking. "Ferelden must no doubt puzzle you."

He released an agreeable grunt.

They headed to the only store in the village as the sun slowly set behind the mountains.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter IX

Morrigan groaned, sitting up as she reached for her aching head. She found herself in a room she wasn't familiar with, the memories slowly coming back to her. She cursed the demon she fought in the kid's dream, but felt proud to have been able to defeat it with only her skills and wit to help her. The sound of an opening door drew her attention, and she turned her head to see Leliana walk in.

"I'm glad to see you have awakened." She smiled, bringing in a small tray with water, grapes and bread. "I thought perhaps you would soon, so I took the liberty of fetching you something to eat. I imagine you are hungry now, no?"

She gave Leliana an awkward look, but slowly nodded, taking the tray from her.

"My thanks."

The former sister smiled. "You gave us all a scare. It appears Wynne was right however, you seem to be doing well."

"'Twas nothing. Entering the Fade in such a way is draining." She took a sip of water. "Where are the others?"

"Alistair came by to tell us we would be spending the night here and head to Denerim in the morning. He also said Everil had gone to the village to run an errand, and that Sten and her hound were likely with her."

 _"_ _She must be helping the_ _Q_ _unari find his sword._ _"_ Morrigan thought to herself, popping a grape into her mouth.

"Also Wynne will be joining us from now on."

"That insufferable hag from the Circle?" She lifted her brows.

"Uh…Yes." Leliana replied with an awkward expression. "She came to check on you earlier, then said she would be in one of the rooms resting."

"I see." She lazily ate another grape, still groggy from sleep. Leliana watched her in silence, her stare slightly unnerving her.

"I'm fine now. There is no need for you to be here any longer." She said coolly, her gaze upon her food.

"Oh, sorry." The other woman shifted, walking to the door. "I uh…will be in the room next door if you need anything."

Morrigan didn't answer, sighing with relief upon hearing the door close. She placed the tray down on the bed and swung her legs over the edge, walking up to her bag. She rummaged through it, gingerly pulling out the leather-bound book. She ran her finger over the tree pattern on the cover, a small smirk tugging at her purple lips.

Now alone, she could begin discovering her mother's secrets.

Soon night fell, shrouding everything in darkness. Torches and candles lined the halls, their light flickering against the walls. Sten had picked a room to sleep in, leaving her to check on Morrigan with her dog. She was only able to exchange a few words with the witch before they were both kicked out of her room, told to leave as she had much work to do and didn't want interruptions.

With a roll of her eyes she let her be, knowing she was likely using the downtime to read her mother's grimoir.

"So long as she's alright…" She uttered to herself.

Everil crossed the hallway to her chosen room and stepped inside, closing the door before proceeding to drop her weapons off by the bed. It was dark, but the moon shone bright enough through the window to allow her to see some of the space within. It was simple room with a single bed and a desk with a small candle lit upon it. She walked up to the nightstand, lighting the lamp resting on it and illuminating the rest of the room. She slid off her bag, also depositing it by her bed before she let herself fall back upon the soft mattress, letting out a sigh as her body began to cave in to exhaustion.

It had been a long couple of days of travel and fighting, and there were no doubt similar days waiting for them ahead. As she stared up at the ceiling she began to think about what they had accomplished this far. The fate of the world rested upon their shoulders, and they were still miles away from having what they needed to put a stop to the Blight.

Lothering then came to mind.

It was almost overwhelming to know that other villages may have already fallen prey to the darkspawn. She wondered just how much time they truly had before the taint enveloped all of Ferelden.

"Maker... I hope we can do this." She murmured, staring at the ceiling.

A soft knock on the door made her rise up with a groan, her tired muscles protesting her action. She then stood, walking up to open the door.

"Hey, you _are_ back." Alistair smiled down at her.

She let out a chuckle. "Yes, I just got here. Were you waiting expectantly for my return?"

"Maybe a little. I told one of the few remaining servants to let me know when you came back to the castle. Grey Warden business." He said with a grin. "May I come in? There's something I have to talk to you about."

"Of course." She stepped into her room as he followed, closing the door behind him. "I thought you were still with Bann Teagan. Whatever it was he wanted to say to you sounded important."

"He just wanted to discuss Ferelden's situation with me. There's a civil war raging up in the Bannorn." He told her with a sigh. "Some of the nobles want to force Loghain off the throne. Which I think is a good thing, but it may make our efforts against the Blight a little more difficult. If that's even possible."

"Oh…well we knew there was a possibility of war breaking out after what happened in Ostagar. We will just have to avoid the conflict as much as we can." She folded her arms, lifting a brow. "So is there a reason why I couldn't join in the conversation?"

"Teagan didn't know you knew who my father was, so he was being reserved. He brought up the throne thing… but I shut him out as soon as I could." He shuddered and quickly attempted to change the subject, not wanting to elaborate further. "At any rate! That's not the only thing I wanted to tell you. I… wanted to thank you."

She tilted her head. "What for?"

"For saving the Arl's family. You could have taken the easy way out and killed Connor, but you chose not to."

"I was going to at one point, remember?" A corner of her lip went up, her tone hinted with guilt.

"But you didn't, and it was thanks to that the Arl won't have more death to grieve over when he wakes up." He gave her a reassuring smile. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that this felt personal. I owe the Arl a lot and saving his wife and son feels like a first step to repaying him for everything he's done for me."

"I understand. But there is no need to thank me, you played a hand in it too." She said with kindness in her eyes.

"I suppose… It does feel good to finally be able to save something after having seen so many people die the last couple of days. We have to celebrate the small victories, right?"

"Right." She smiled up at him.

"Anyway... that's all I wanted to say." He muttered, suddenly feeling nervous under her stare. "I should let you get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

But before he could open the door she spoke.

"Wait..." She said quietly. "I was actually hoping you would stop by. I have something I want to give you."

He gave her a quizzical look, his heart rate automatically rising at her words. He saw her walk to her bag, taking something from one of the pockets. She then approached him with it, a small smile upon her lips.

"Your hand." She said as she reached out to him with an open hand.

Alistair awkwardly placed his hand on hers and she turned it over to look at his open palm. She placed her fist upon it and then opened her fingers, the silver chain flowing out from her hand to his. When she pulled her hand away, the pendant of a necklace stared back at him, the jewel at the center glimmering with the flickering light of the candles in the room.

His eyes widened, immediately recognizing its shape. "This is…"

She smiled warmly. "Yes. It is your mother's amulet."

"I... I thought this had been lost forever..." He muttered incredulously. "Why isn't it broken? Where did you find it?"

"It was in the Arl's room, by his bed. I think he may have fixed it for you."

"I... guess he did."

Alistair felt a knot forming in his throat as his chest grew heavy, recalling the times Eamon had tried to talk to him in the Monastery, and how each time he had refused to see him. He suddenly felt like an idiot, a fool who had thought of only himself when the Arl was no doubt hurting as well.

"See?" She said with a smile, as if reading his thoughts. "He still cares about you. I'm sure that when he wakes up he'll be happy to see you again."

His glanced up from the pendant to her, suddenly realizing what she had just done for him. He had never known his mother. There was not even a memory of her in his mind, just very few stories told to him by the Arl. All he had ever known and felt of her had been the pendant. A memento that as a child he often held for comfort during the times he struggled with her absence. Throwing it away had been the biggest regret he had carried throughout his life in the monastery, a regret made worse when it seemed like everyone had abandoned him.

But now it was once again in his hand, and the familiar weight of it gave him back that comforting feeling he had craved for so long.

"Alistair? Are you all right?

He shifted his attention up to her, his eyes softening upon seeing the concern in her eyes. "I can't believe you remembered... I'm more used to people not listening to what I say."

"Of course I remembered." She uttered while gently taking the necklace from his hand. She then stepped closer, reaching up to slowly slide the chain over his head. She let the amulet hang loosely over his chest, her heart racing as she touched the details etched upon the pendant. "You're special to me..."

His eyes met hers, his pulse quickening at her words and proximity of her body. He searched her sky blue eyes, finding in their depths the truth about how he felt about her. He wanted to kiss her alluring lips. He craved to hold her in his arms and touch her skin, to explore her curves with his bare hands. But the feeling tugging at his heart told him it wasn't just carnal desire drawing him to her.

He was falling in love with her.

"I have a confession to make..." He whispered, his eyes tracing her features.

"Yes...?" She tilted her head, her hand still absently resting over the amulet against his chest.

"I know... we haven't known each other for very long. And maybe it's because of all we have been through together... but..." He smiled lightly, his hands nervously coming up to rest upon her arms. "I... I have grown to care for you… a great deal."

Her eyes widened a fraction as she felt heat rise up to her face, the longing in his eyes making her pulse quicken as she listened to him.

"And I was wondering if..." He swallowed. "If you would ever feel the same way about me?"

Her racing heart was suddenly made it hard to think as she searched for the right words. But the way her heart swelled at his confession, and her sudden desire to taste his lips were all the answers she needed.

She placed her hands against his chest, looking into his eyes as she whispered. "I already do..."

And then her wish came true when he claimed her lips with his, her lips parting as his tongue invaded her mouth. His hand then came up to her cheek as her tongue slowly danced with his, the tip of his fingers lacing through her hair. She wrapped an arm around his neck, sighing softly as she felt her body temperature rise.

It quickly became difficult to think as he found himself wanting her more, his hands aching to roam. He forced himself to pull back, trying to regain control of his urges while somehow managing to keep his manhood in check.

He breathlessly leaned his forehead agaist hers. "That... that wasn't too soon was it?"

She gulped, her heart threatened to break out of her rib cage. "No... I enjoyed it..."

"Hm... I'm relieved to hear that." He smiled, gently stroking her scarred cheek with his thumb. "Maker's breath but you're beautiful. I'm a very lucky man."

She smiled back, leaning into his touch.

He cleared his throat, then stepped back, his hands coming to rest upon her shoulders. "I... should probably leave before I get too carried away."

A gentle laugh escaped her. "Good night, Alistair."

"Good night..." He smiled lightly, turning to the door.

He gave her one last glance before opening it, then closed it behind him.

She stared wistfully at the door, resting her hand against her pounding chest with a smile on her flushed lips.

As Alistair stepped out he released a drawn out breath, trying to calm his racing pulse before he willed himself to keep walking, only to pause as when he noticed a man standing nearby.

"I see I am too late." Teagan chuckled, folding his arms.

Alistair met the man's gaze, knowing he was grinning like an idiot.

But he didn't care.

"I don't think you even had a chance." He said, patting his shoulder as he walked past him. "Good night!"

Teagan watched him go, shaking his head with a chuckle. He may have lost the chance to woo the young Cousland, but Alistair's happy smile told him it was probably better this way.

The next morning, small boats were cast out into the lake, bundled bodies laid out upon them. Archers released flaming arrows, setting them on fire as the sound of a lute playing a sad tune drowned the whimpers of the villagers gathered within the docks. Connor stood next to a crestfallen Isolde, as they both watched the ceremony in awkward silence.

Once the funeral was over, Everil and the others were led out of the castle by Teagan. They stopped at the other side of the bridge, as horses were brought to where they stood.

"The trip to Denerim will be long on foot and Redcliffe's horses are said to be the fastest in Ferelden." Teagan told her, a hand extended to the animals. "Consider them a gift for saving our people and my family. Also, this…"

He handed her a bag of sovereigns, the weight of it making her hands nearly sink.

"Use it for what you need. My brother may be ill at this time, but I will do all I can to help in your efforts to stop the Blight."

"That's very generous." She said uttered gratefully.

He took her hand, bringing it up to his lips for a chaste kiss. "Have safe travels, my lady."

"Thank you. We hope to bring good news about the Urn next time we come to Redcliffe." She replied with a confident smile before she turned to the others. "Alright, pick your horses. We have a long trip ahead of us."

Loghain leaned back on his chair, gently swaying the red liquid in his chalice. He looked down at it with disdain, his reflection staring back at him. He was still not used to all the flourish of nobility, even after thirty years of involving himself in politics.

He nearly missed the farmlands, and he wondered how simple life would have been if the Orelisian Empire hadn't occupied the country so long ago.

A knock on the door made his head snap up from his wine.

"Enter."

The door opened and in came Hawe, his hawkish features twisted with worry. "My Lord, I bring news."

"Speak then."

"The darkspawn are advancing. We have lost many minor villagers and farmlands to their raids." He shifted nervously. "I fear that... with the civil war we might not have enough manpower to battle the Blight. Perhaps we should-"

"Father!"

A blonde woman wearing fine silks barged into the room, stalking her way towards Loghain and pinning him with a glare upon her beautiful features.

"My people are dying out there!" She snapped angrily. "Shouldn't we be fighting the Blight instead of each other!?"

Loghain took a drink from his chalice then calmly regarded his daughter. "We must bring the nobility into line first and then we may gather our forces to replace those lost at Ostagar. This is no true Blight, Anora, only Cailan's vanity demanded it be so. Once we have the army we need we will wipe the lands clean of the darkspawn threat."

"Father, Ferelden cannot face this crisis alone. Cailan was right. We should seek help from Orlais!"

"No!" He slammed his fist down upon the arm of his chair, startling the two people standing in the room.

"Maric and I drove those bastards away and we will not roll out the welcome mat for them now! Ferelden will stand on its own!"

The Queen's hands closed into fists, as she gave her father a hard look. "Did you kill Cailan?"

He rose from his seat, his gaze matching hers. "Cailan's death was his own doing."

She shook her head and threw her arms up in frustration, stumping her way out of the room.

Howe watched uncomfortably, stepping up to the door to ensure no one was listening before closing it.

"There is also the matter of the surviving Grey Wardens. I have taken the liberty to arrange a solution… with your leave of course." He gestured towards the open window, as the wind picked up the drapes. A cloaked figure stepped out from behind the curtains, a smirk on his face as he bowed his head to Loghain.

"The Crows send their regards, your lordship."

Loghain scowled at his right hand man. "You hired an assassin?"

Howe nodded his head, eyes cast down in an act of submission. "By our recent reports, the Grey Wardens have proven to be resilient. Conventional means will not suffice, and this man can be discrete."

He sighed, turning to the fireplace behind him, resting a heavy arm over it. "Get it done."

The man bowed again, his smile spreading further. He then whirled around, the coat flowing with the motion as his light steps headed for the window.

The group made their way through the King's Highway, heading north east towards Ferelden's capital city of Denerim. The lands seemed peaceful, with the occasional shack or village at the roadside. Everil would have found the scenery to be relaxing, were it not for the danger still looming over it.

Seeing the beauty of the Fereldan landscape only made her realize just how fragile it was, something she had not thought about before the Blight began. It was nearly embarrassing to her how sheltered she had been in comparison to the others around her. However, despite her lack of personal experiences, she felt that her parents' constant lectures and her brother's training were becoming quite useful lately.

Everil raised her hand, halting them before suddenly sliding off her horse. Alistair followed suit, drawing his blade as they approached the thick of the foliage. Beyond the bushes, distant growls echoed into their ears. And upon edging further they could see a group of darkspawn currently camping out in the field, gathering around a fire as they bickered over the dismembered remains of several dead people who appeared to be part of a caravan.

"Another group that came out of the ground..." Alistair muttered next to her as they both took cover behind the thick greens.

"I say we make them regret ever coming out." She shrugged off her bow and drew an arrow, signaling for the others to come closer.

"Morrigan I want you to set one of them on fire. Create a distraction."

The witch nodded sternly.

"Leliana, you and I will flank them from opposite sides. Take out as many as you can with your arrows. Alistair, Sten and Atlas can then charge in and take out the rest. Wynne, stand by and provide support if necessary."

They split up to their respective positions. Leliana slowly walked around the enemy camp, as Everil did the same, remaining hidden behind the foliage. As the two took aim, one of the genlocks by the campfire suddenly combusted, screeching out in agony as it ran around camp trying to put itself out. The other darkspawn around it watched it run in amusement as their brother slowly burned alive.

Taking the opportunity Everil and Leliana began to pick off those who were distracted, shooting arrows to their heads and chests. When the darkspawn finally noticed they were under attack nearly half their platoon had already been downed.

They let out a cry, drawing their weapons when the warriors of the group charged. Alistair promptly rammed his shield against the first monster he approached, knocking its weapon arm back before running it through. Sten swung his great sword, slicing several creatures in half as Magnus knocked one down nearby.

They were dead in minutes, their rotten blood seeping into the dirt and killing anything it touched.

Everil frowned angrily at the dead people littering the ground, shaking her head as she put away her bow. She walked up to the others as they gathered in the middle of the massacre, eyeing the damage with disgust.

"Let's pick up anything of use." She said quietly.

"I wonder where these people were going." Leliana knelt next to one of the bodies, gathering the bit of coin still in its pockets.

"They seem to have been going to Redcliffe." Wynne lifted a small book from another body, flipping through it. "They were running from the war..."

Everil's eyes hardened, her hands closing into fists. "I suppose they did not know about what was happening in Redcliffe before we helped save the village. They would have just gone into more trouble... But running into darkspawn was worse."

A hand on her shoulder made her crane her head to look at Alistair's solemn expression, her heart involuntarily skipping a beat.

"No use dwelling on that now. We should probably keep moving before wolves come pick up what's left."

She nodded slowly and then shifted her attention to the others. "Alright. Let's go everyone."

Soon they were forced to camp out in the wilderness once more. It had taken longer than usual to set up camp, upon Everil's insistence they find water for the horses.

She had then made for the river after having told them she would be bathing, her hound dutifully following her.

Alistair let out a small huff as he stared out at the flames lighting their campfire, holding a canteen of water in one hand while feeling somewhat envious of the dog. He recalled their heated kiss, the feeling of her soft lips over his.

"You look like an idiot smiling at nothing."

He looked up to Morrigan, who was staring down at him while standing by the fire.

"You're just mad because I happen to be in a good mood." He responded with a smirk, attempting to play it off. "What do you want, anyway? Did you get bored over in your bubble and decide to come ruin my night?"

"I simply came to discuss something I find to be rather troubling." The witch's amber eyes flickered from the light of the flames, slight irritation upon her fair features.

"Oh? I thought it was impossible for you to be bothered by anything. Since you always have such a sunny disposition." He said and took a drink of water.

"Tell me something, Alistair. Is fraternizing allowed in the Grey Wardens?"

He spat the water out into the fire.

"I thought as much."

He reached up to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, heat quickly rising to his face. "I—I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh please... Do you not think that after all this time we have been traveling together I would not notice the change? I have seen how you look at her now, with eyes similar to those of a lost puppy." She curled her nose in disgust. "Which leads me to believe something changed between the two of you."

"And what of it? I don't see how that's any of your business." He mumbled, looking away from her penetrating eyes.

She crossed her arms, arrogantly lifting her chin. "You have the fate of these lands on your shoulders, my home included. What would you do if there were a situation in which you had to choose between ending the Blight and the woman you love?"

His head shot up in surprise at her question, and then he reached up to scratch the back of his neck. "D-Don't be ridiculous. That would never happen."

"'Tis still something you should consider." With a smirk she stepped up to their supply of food nearby, picking up an apple from the bag before she walked away, leaving a disconcerted Alistair to his thoughts.

He scowled at her retreating form. Had she come all this way from her corner of camp just to tell him that? He inwardly cursed the witch, wondering why it was she found it amusing to torture him.

He hadn't thought falling for his fellow Warden would hurt anything, but Grey Wardens were known by their willingness to sacrifice it all for their cause. Their lives were dedicated to protecting everyone from the Blight, to the point where some nearly lost their own humanity in the process.

Which meant that there was a real chance that his relationship with Everil could be affected. Alistair's brow furrowed as he contemplated all possibilities in his mind. One of them may die in this journey, or they may be forced to make a difficult decision that could tear them apart.

His feelings for her were still new and he had close to no experience when it came to romance, but the possibility of losing her bothered him.

Just as that thought crossed his mind the object of his affections walked up to camp, her hair dripping wet as she shivered lightly. She quickly sought the heat of the fire, taking a seat next to him.

"Ah it feels good not to smell of dirt and sweat." She commented through quivering lips as she reached out to the fire to warm her hands.

His eyes turned towards her, the troubling thoughts lingering. Should he do his duty and end it before things get too serious between them? Perhaps he should cut it short, keep them from possibly hurting each other later. They could go back to being only acquaintances or just friends helping each other through tough times.

She shuddered as a gust of wind suddenly picked up her dripping hair, and he saw then that her once pink lips were nearly purple.

His pensive look turned to concern, mentally kicking himself for not noticing sooner. "Are you all right? You seem cold."

"It's nothing. The lake was much colder than I anticipated. Silly me, right?" She chuckled, smiling warmly at him as she hugged herself in a futile attempt to still her quivering body.

"Uhm... Here." He timidly wrapped his arms around her shoulders, bringing her close to him. She seemed to stiffen a little at first, but then let out a sigh, his body heat immediately helping her feel better. The others around camp sent curious glances their way, but he avoided their eyes. Everil on the other hand didn't notice or appear to care, as she cuddled closer to him.

"Is that better?" He uttered quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Much." She whispered back, suddenly feeling relaxed despite the rapid beating of her heart.

The thoughts he had before were then forcibly pushed aside, as he came to a conclusion on the matter. He wanted to be with her, and if the worst came to pass then he would deal with it then.

"I've been meaning to ask... Can we look up someone once we arrive to Denerim?"

She looked up at him and tilted her head. "This someone would not happen to be a former lover, would it?"

His eyes grew wide. "W-What? You think I would take you to... Together? No! Besides, you know I have never..."

She laughed playfully. "It was a joke."

He let out a breath, slightly frustrated. What was it that made these women pick on him so much? Though he didn't mind her teasing as much, he liked to hear that adorable laugh of hers.

"Uh good... All right how do I explain this... You remember when I told you my mother was a serving girl at the castle? I found out a while ago that she had a daughter."

Her eyebrows went up. "So you have a sister?"

"Yes. A half-sister. I have never met her, and only learned of her existence days before Arl Eamon sent me to the Chantry. So when I joined the Grey Wardens I was able to do a bit of digging, and I found out she's still alive, living in Denerim, near the alienege." He gave her a hopeful look. "I would like to meet her... Maybe warn her about the Blight."

"Sure. We can go see her." She smiled.

His hold on her tightened as he hugged her tightly. "Thank you."

"I think we should speak to the elves after our business in Denerim is over with." Everil uttered, staring at the flickering flames.

"The Brecilian Forest is south of Denerim… Yes, we can kill two birds with one stone."

She nodded.

They sat by the fire for hours, as the others systematically retired to their tents. She yawned loudly stretching her arms. "So you will be pulling guard duty? I thought tonight was Leliana's turn."

"Yeah... I lost a bet I made with her." He mumbled, feeling dejected.

"Oh? What was it?"

"I bet her I could make Sten crack a smile. She said she had a lot of faith, but that the Maker himself wouldn't intervene on that for me. I wanted to prove her wrong, but-" He sighed. "-she was right."

Everil laughed, drawing another smile out of him.

"It sounds like you did this to yourself then." She said.

"Yes, I know. No need to pour salt over the wound." He jokingly pouted, then pointed to her tent with his thumb. "Anyway, you should head to bed, it's getting late."

"Yes, I suppose I should." She lifted herself up to her feet. She was about to step away when she paused, tapping him on the shoulder.

When he cranked his head up to look up at her she leaned over, tugging her hair behind her ear as she softly kissed his lips.

She pulled away with a wide smile. "Good night."

"Good night..." He uttered as he watched her walk away, her hound in toe.

The capital city of Ferelden, Denerim. It was the home of the country's royal palace, and the gathering place of the nobles who ruled under the royal family. The roads were bustling with activity, as people all over the country traded their goods and others rushed from one corner to the other through roads of polished stone. The town's massive chantry towered over the buildings lining the roads, but it was not nearly as tall as Drakon Fortress, the city's prison tower. The fortress overshadowed even the royal palace, standing tall like a warning to those who defied the king.

Several gold sovereigns let out a hollowed sound as they scattered over the inn's wooden counter, a hooded brunette standing before it, giving the keeper a stern look.

"We will be using the remaining rooms here."

The old man counted the coins with quivering hands, nodding his head to her once his calculations were finished.

She turned to her companions. "Morrigan and Leliana will accompany Alistair and I. The rest of you shall remain here, so make sure you stay out of trouble."

Upon splitting up their group, the four remaining members exited the inn. They headed for the center of town, while she and her fellow Warden wore cloaks to hide their face and armor. They soon reached the house described in the document Isolde had provided them, a modest looking home.

Everil reached for a gentle knock.

The door soon opened, revealing a middle-aged man with a kin smile.

"Yes, how can I help you?"

"We are here to speak to brother Genitivy."

The man paused, eyeing the four with surprise. He looked around suspiciously before gesturing for them to step inside.

"I'm Genitivi's assistant. He is not here at the moment. He has been gone for weeks so I don't know when he will return."

"Then perhaps you can help us. We seek information on the Urn of Sacred Ashes."

She saw something flicker in his eyes, and he then gestured for them to step inside.

As he led them in they glanced around the house, seeing how the walls were lined with books and religious artifacts, telling them of the scholar's successful background.

The assistant then spoke. "It has been some time since I was asked about this. And I must regrettably tell you that you seek a lost cause. The Urn does not exist.

Everil folded her arms, stopping by the long dinner table at the center of the room. "Hm.. I don't understand. A piece of Genitivi's manuscript stating otherwise was found and delivered to Redcliffe."

The man picked up one of the books, using his robe to dust it off, avoiding their gaze as he cleaned up. "That was an old document. We have long since given up on the search of the Urn, and perhaps you should do the same."

Everil observed his movements, noticing a slight tremor in his hands. "I cannot... You see, there is sick man who needs the ashes to recover. If we do not at last try, he will die."

"Several knights came here stating the same thing and I was forced to tell them what I just told you." He sighed, shaking his head. "You should go."

"Several knights?" Everil's brow lifted. "How long ago was this?"

"Hm perhaps… a few weeks ago." He glanced her way with shifting eyes, before continued his work.

She looked to Alistair, who also gave her a stern look.

"Hey, by any chance, do you know what happened to those men?" Alistair took a step towards him with an inquisitive look. "They never returned to Redcliffe."

The man let out an elaborate sigh, shaking his head sadly once more. He set down the book and then leaned over the table with slumped shoulders. "I told you to leave, but you leave me no choice."

Several men poured out of closets and doors around them, armed with knives and daggers. They closed in on them, intent on quickly ending their lives. Everil, Leliana and Alistair drew their weapons, as they blocked each hit while protecting their mage as Morrigan stood in the back.

"Bastard…" Everil greeted her teeth and kicked one man in the gut, pushing him away from her before her blade sunk into his chest. She then whirled around, slicing the neck of another, his blood spraying on the wooden floors.

Alistair easily pushed off his opponent, slashing at his stomach. Leliana promptly dispatched the others as she wove her way through them with a dagger.

Everil then approached the cowering assistant, sword in hand as she pointed it at his throat. "Start talking. Who are you and why are you killing all who ask about the Urn?"

He shook as he was pinned to the wall, his hands reaching down for his knife.

"Don't do it…" She warned. "I will slice your throat in an instant."

"You are not worthy of witnessing Andraste's glory!" He slashed out, but before he could Everil's blade slit his neck. He sank to the floor, a pool of blood forming beneath him.

She curled up her nose and shifted her attention to her group. "Search the house. We need anything that can give us a clue to what happened to Genitivi."

They flipped through books and searched the room. Leliana went into the man's bedroom, reaching for a desk when her eyes landed on a body bundled on the floor. She covered her nose and approached it, kneeling over it to inspect it. It looked to have been dead for a while, as it lay bloated and decomposing.

For a moment she thought this man might have been Genitivi himself, but the book it was holding stated differently. She flipped through the pages then stood, heading out the door. "I found something."

The others looked up from their searching spots, walking up to her.

"This Genitivi is not here. He has left for a village near the Frostback Mountains to the west." She handed the book to Everil, who flipped through it. "That is his diary, I believe. It says there that he was close to finding the Urn, and that this village called Haven was the key."

She nodded. "Good work. It looks like we will be traveling that way soon."

With that they made their way out of the house, leaving the corpses for the castle's soldiers to find and clean up.

"You have a sister?" Leliana's eyebrows shot up as they headed for the homes just outside the elven alienage.

Their companions were now generally aware of his past, upon having told them after leaving Redcliffe. He figured there would be no harm in them knowing, thinking it best not to keep secrets. He wasn't as worried about the outcome as he was before he told Everil, since really, she had been the only person whose opinion truly mattered. It did feel a little better to know the others also knew, and that they had begun to trust each other in some ways.

"Yes. But this is the first time I will actually meet her." He replied as they neared the house, his hands opening and closing anxiously.

The three women stood a few feet back, giving him space as he prepared himself to enter the rackety shack. He swallowed, hesitating before the door.

"Are you going inside or what?" Morrigan said impatiently, folding her arms.

He shot her a glare. "Don't rush me…"

Alistair let out a breath and then shifted his attention to his fellow Warden, his features softening into unease. "Everil uh… can you… uh."

"Do you want me to go in with you?" She gave him a smile.

He nodded timidly.

"It's all right. I'll help you." She said as she stepped closer, while Morrigan rolled her eyes behind her.

Everil reached up and knocked on the door, as Alistair nervously shifted on his feet beside her.

"Bertha! I already told you your laundry ain't done until—"

The door opened, and worn out woman glared out at them, puzzlement in her hard gaze. "What do you want?"

"We came to talk to you about something important. Do you mind if we come in?" Everil said gently, trying to be polite to the obviously uncomfortable woman.

Goldanna looked at her critically, seeing the intricate design of what little was revealed of their armor through their coat. She huffed. "'Course you can. You rich folk go about as if you own everything anyways."

She grumpily stepped inside, leaving the door open.

Alistair and Everil exchanged a look before they went in, leaving Morrigan and Leliana outside.

"Charming woman, no?" Leliana commented with an awkward smile.

Goldanna's house was small and falling apart, with patches of wood on every wall. Three children sat on the small living room, playing with dolls made out of straw. Clothes were piled in a dented metal basin, soaking in dirty water.

Alistair and Everil looked around awkwardly, feeling slightly out of place, while also holding sympathetic looks at the conditions she was living in.

"What do you want with me? I have a lot of work to do." Goldanna crossed her arms, her short, messy blonde hair sticking to her sweat stricken face.

Alistair swallowed nervously and then spoke. "My name is Alistair. And I... know this might sound sort of strange to you... but are you Goldanna? If so... then I guess I'm your brother."

"My what? I am Goanna, yes... how do you know my name?" She gave him an annoyed look. "What sort of tomfoolery are you folk up to?"

"He speaks the truth. Listen to him." Everil said softly, trying to appease her.

Alistair then continued. "I don't know if you knew of this, but... when our mother worked at the castle she had another child. I'm-"

"You! I knew it! They told me you was dead! They told me the babe was dead along with Mother!"

Alistair frowned. "They told you that? Who did?"

"Thems at the castle!"

"Oh uhm well the babe didn't die... I'm him. I'm your brother."

She scoffed. "For all the good that does me! You killed Mother, you did! I've been having to scrape by all this time? That coin didn't last long, and when I went back they ran me off!"

Alistair shrunk away under her accusations, wincing with each finger she pointed at him.

Everil watched with fists closed, struggling to control her own temper as she listened to his sister's hateful words. She took in an even breath. "Look, what happened was not his fault."

Goldanna's hateful eyes turned her way then, pinning her with a dirty look. "And who are you? Some tart following him around like some mabari bitch?"

"Hey! Don't speak to her that way! She's my friend and a Grey Warden! Just like me!" Alistair snapped, glaring down at his sister while earning a surprised look from Everil.

"Ooh? A Grey Warden and a Prince." Goldanna muttered with poison in her voice. "How high and mighty you are compared to me. I don't know you boy. All I know is that your royal father forced himself upon my mother and I was left to fend for me self. Those bastads at the castle tricked me good! I should have told everyone!"

She waved at him dismissively. "I have five mouths to feed, so unless you can help with that then I have less than no use for you."

He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, his earlier anger forgotten. "I... I'm sorry. I don't know what to say."

Everil sighed. "Goldanna, Alistair just wanted to find his family."

"Well he found it. And unless he can make sure his nieces and nephews live how they have a right to, then he's worthless to me."

"I... I suppose I could help somehow..." he turned to Everil, a helpless look upon his face. "How about 5 sovereigns? Will you let me give her that?"

Everil hesitated, the anger at the insolent woman making her wish she could just slap the bitterness out of her. But she took in a breath, reaching into their bag of coin with a calm facade. "If that's what you want, then here."

"Thanks." He smiled, taking the coin from her, then offering it to Goldanna.

She took it with a distasteful look, gazing down at the five golden coins in her hand. "That's it? You have all that coin in that bag of yours and this is all you can spare?"

Everil scowled. "If you haven't noticed we're fighting a Blight. We cannot afford to give away money at the moment."

"I wasn't talking to you." She replied, picking the coin before giving Alistair a dirty look. "So answer me you would-be prince. Is your family worth just five miserable sovereigns?"

Alistair's jaw tensed as he closed his hands into fists, his heart twisting at what was happening. Most would have been grateful, especially since that kind of money could actually feed her family for a few weeks. He didn't know what to do or say, but he regretted ever meeting this woman.

"I'm sorry... that's all I can give you. I... wish I could do more, but—"

"Then get out of my house!" She said angrily, pointing to the door.

Alistair shook his head and placed his hand on Everil's shoulder, turning them towards the door as he opened it for them. It then slammed behind them, before m Everil sent the door an irritated look.

Morrigan chuckled, a smirk spreading over her lips. "I take it she was not fond of the idea of having you for a brother. I cannot say I blame her."

Alistair shot her an angry yet hurt glance before stalking past her, avoiding their gaze.

"Alistair wait!" Everil called after him, but he kept walking. She sternly shook her head to Morrigan. "Go back to the Inn. I'll go talk to him."

The witch rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she watched their leader walk away to try to catch up with their dejected companion.

"That was unnecessary, Morrigan." Leliana frowned worriedly.

She clicked her tongue. "The man is pathetic, and I treat him as such. Your opinion is irrelevant to me."

Everil grunted as people bumped into her, completely ignoring her presence in their haste to keep moving. She kept trying to follow, eyes focusing on his retreating form as he headed for the nearest alley.

She cursed as another person ran into her, then shoved her out of the crowd. She panted, sighing with relief at finally being out of the mess. Her eyes then searched the back streets as she made her way through them, noticing how empty they were. She then paused when she finally she found him, his slouched form sitting on a set of steps that led to a large gate and further into the city.

She took a few steps, watching as he leaned over on his knees with a heavy breath.

"Alistair?"

His head shot up, a somewhat lost look in his eyes before his features softened into an apologetic look. "I...I'm sorry."

She shook her head, walking up to him. "It's all right. Goldanna said painful things to you and Morrigan just made it worse. I don't blame you for walking away from that."

"I just... I thought she would be happy to meet me. I thought she would accept me without question."

"I know..." Everil uttered as she climbed the steps and took a seat next to him, resting her arms on her knees. "I didn't expect she would react that way either."

"I just can't believe the sister I dreamed of meeting one day would turn out to be such a...such a…"

"Gold-digging harridan?"

"Heh… Yes. That's accurate."

She leaned back on the steps, gazing up at the blue sky over tall buildings framing the alley. "I'm sorry this happened to you… but perhaps this means it's time you look out for yourself a little more, rather than seek others to do it for you."

He gave her a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you should stand up for yourself more. Be more self-reliant." She leaned over, resting her hand on his forearm. "Because although you have friends around you, in the end, you don't really need anyone else but yourself."

Realization suddenly dawned upon him.

She was right. He had been so focused on how lonely and unwanted he had felt throughout the years that he was constantly trying to fit in, to find a family who would accept him for who he was. And in turn he had allowed those he respected to make all the decisions for him, so much so he didn't know how to be any other way.

He had to change that, to understand that while he may not have the family he longed for he didn't need it in order to build his own happiness.

And as the thought sunk into his head he felt a weight lifting from his shoulders, as if he were finally brave enough to live for himself.

With a small smile he placed a hand on hers, meeting her eyes with a gentle look of his own. "I have some growing up to do, don't I?"

"Everyone does, and there is strength in knowing that." She uttered, returning the smile.

"Then I'll follow your advice... I'll stand up for myself more and make my life my own without anyone's help." He leaned down to gently press his lips to hers.

She chuckled. "Just don't forget you can still rely on me for help here and there."

"I know." His smile widened. "Thank you."

A scream for help suddenly drew their attention, startling them.

They exchanged a glance as another scream was heard.

"Come on." Everil said as she stood, more screams reaching their ears as they rushed down the steps and through the alley as they followed the cries.

A crying woman was standing head of them, her back to them as she sobbed uncontrollably on the other side of one of the iron gates that sectioned the area. The two slowed down to a stop by her, and Everil reached for her shoulder, cautiously trying to turn her around to face her.

"Hey, are you all right?"

The woman began to chuckle, drawing odd looks from them before she unexpectedly whirled around. Wearing a mask, the woman set off a small bomb of green smoke that covered her and Everil as she hid behind the cover. The large gate behind them then fell shut, trapping them inside as several men began appearing from behind walls and boxes in the alley.

Then Everil gazed up as one man caught her attention, the one no doubt leading the assault, as he stood upon a rooftop watching them from above.

She quickly drew her sword and dagger as her companions pulled out his blade.

"An ambush?" Alistair muttered with irritation, eyeing their opponents.

The enemy then charged, slashing at them swords and daggers. Alistair blocked a blade with his, quickly shoving the attacker's weapon and running him through before shifting on his feet to take on another. It was just she and he now, no help from their companions, and they seemed to be outnumbered.

"Kill the Grey Wardens!" One of them cried out as he pounced onto Everil, who blocked his two daggers with both of her weapons. She kicked him on the knee, making him break his stance before slicing sideways, cutting open his throat.

The same woman from before then jumped in, her swift feet like those of a cat as she clashed her daggers against her. Everil greeted her teeth as she kicked, only to hit air as the other rogue quickly side stepped to attack again from the side. She used her sword to block and then swung with her dagger, only to hit air again.

Although she was growing increasingly frustrated she kept going, slashing at the woman until eventually she was forced to block her.

Alistair brought his sword forth, stabbing a man in the stomach before using his foot to pry him off. "How do they know who we are!?"

Everil pushed the rogue off her, drawing a breath before the woman pounced on her again.

"I don't know! I think they—"

A coughing fit suddenly rocked her and ahebsuddenly felt as if all control over her body had been stolen from her, the grip on her weapons weakening. The masked female struck then, hitting her blades and sending them flying out of her reach. Everil then fell on her knees, coughing as she tried to stand back up.

"W-What...?" Was all she could say before she was thrown over someone's shoulder, her limps gone limp despite her efforts to move. Then her captor threw another bomb into the ground, creating a curtain of green gas that hid them both.

"Everil!" Alistair called out as he took several running steps towards the smoke, only to stop as a massive man jumped down before him from above, blocking his path.

He gazed up at him in surprise, unable to see his face through the thick iron helmet and instead spotting the eyes staring down at him through the slot.

Too large for a man, it was a qunari.

The giant spun a thick chain vertically, a heavy spiked ball at the end, the edges stained a deep red with the blood of past enemies.

Yet despite his disadvantage in both size and strength, Alistair narrowed his eyes at the behemoth as he spoke in a threatening tone. "Get out of my way..."

The Qunari chuckled darkly. "No can do."

"Thorpe!" Shouted the hooded male still standing upon the rooftop. "Be a good boy and kill him for the Crows! I have a mess to clean up!"

He then vanished, leaving what remained of his men injured upon the ground and the Warden alone with his next opponent. The brute growled and rushed him, drawing his great sword and swinging it down at him. Alistair dodged to the side, slicing in diagonal, trying to slash at the man's exposed flesh. He dragged the weapon on the dirt, attacking upwards and forcing Alistair to block with his shield.

The strong hit made him tense his jaw, the loud clang ringing in his ears as metal hit metal. Thorpe then brought his sword back down, again forcing him to block with the shield. Great swords were mostly used for reach, whereas Alistair's sword was used for close quarters.

He had to somehow get closer without accidentally losing his head.

Thorpe then growled again. "Come puny man! I am beginning to think you Grey Wardens are not what you claim to be!"

He swung down, and Alistair sidestepped, letting the enemy's weapon hit the ground. Alistair then ran forward, trying to close in on him with his sword poised to stab him. The brute grabbed his sword with his bare hand, making Alistair's eyes grow wide as he was suddenly punched on the ribs by a metal-covered fist, the hit robbing him of all air. As he stumbled the qunari then flung him to the side, watching skit through the ground.

"Pathetic!" He laughed as Alistair quickly rolled to his feet.

As soon as Alistair maid to attack him again, he swung out his chain; wrapping it around his legs and making him fall on his back yet again. Thorpe dragged him on the ground, drawing him in as if he were a freshly caught fish, cackling mockingly.

Alistair struggled to break free, but soon he found himself at the feet of the enemy as he drew back his weapon, ready to end him.

He quickly rolled, the blade stabbing the dirt and gracing his arm as it went down.

Alistair quickly untangled the chain, left with enough time to try to dodge another hit, the blade gracing his hip. Small bloodstains covered his blue Grey Warden armor, his own blood, but was he too busy blocking attacks and trying to end the fight to notice. He quickly searched for vulnerabilities, something he knew he should have done a while ago.

The man's left hand carried the chain, which left him open on the left side while he was armed with the great sword on the right side.

He blocked another hit, grunting at the force. If he could somehow go around him to hit his open side…

Thorpe's blade hitting the dirt gave him an idea, and he smirked.

He took a step back, then hopped to the side and out of the way of another attack. He then dodged another, until he saw him raise his blade up high, ready for another massive down swing. This time Alistair stood his ground, bringing his shield up at a slightly tilted angle just in time to make the large blade scrape over it, sparks flying as he diverted the hit. The sword struck sideways, stabbing the ground at an angle. Alistair then quickly used the man weapon as a stand, jumping of it and leading with his shield.

He slammed it squarely against the enemy's head, denting his helmet and making him sway dizzily. Alistair then landed and slashed sideway, cutting through the man's leg forcing him to a knee before Alistair came up and ended it, stabbing through his neck.

Thorpe let out a gurgling noise, blood pouring out of his mouth as he grabbed desperately at the blade.

"Just so you know before you die: Grey Wardens don't just make claims, we simply are the best there is." Alistair uttered coldly, his eyes boring into his before he twisted his sword and then slashed to the side, ripping it out of the man's throat.

She could only see the back of the woman carrying her over her shoulder, her muscles still refusing to obey her. In the distance, she could hear some voices, laughter of women and the moans of men, along with the scent of ale and sweat. She could not make out the words spoken among the people around her, but she could tell they were in some sort of tavern.

Moments later she was laid upon a worn bed, her body flopping down as if lifeless. Whatever they made her inhale before took away her ability to fight back. Anger rose up within her as she struggled to lift her hands, her fingers twitching with every effort she made.

She felt her arms being pulled up and tied to what she could assume was the headboard of the bed she lay upon, the roughness of the rope making her wince.

The woman who had dragged her along pulled away, tugging down her mask and staring down at her with a satisfied smile before steps at the door had her whirling around with a hand on her dagger.

"Oh it's you, Zevran." She uttered, lowering her hand.

He pulled off his hood, revealing a mane of platinum hair over a tanned skin and pointed ears. He put on a cocky grin, tilting his head as he gestured to the disabled Warden. "Is this your idea of a kinky eve? Because if it is, I am very interested in finding out where it leads."

She scoffed. "The Teyrn of Highever offered me a great deal of extra coin for bringing this one to him alive. I think killing the other one should satisfy Loghain, don't you?"

Everil's eyes widened with surprise. " _Both Loghain and_ _Howe are behind this..._ _?"_

Her resentment quickly turned into concern. She had not seen Alistair's situation before she was dragged away, but she knew they had been able to kill most of the enemies around them.

She let out an anguished breath _._ _"Maker,_ _I hope he's all right…_ _"_

Zevran clicked his tongue, jokingly chastising his partner. "Len, you know the Crows don't like it when we act on our own. Not killing the target and going around the original contract to negotiate with someone else is… frowned upon."

"Yes, I know that." She said with slight irritation. "But this I could not pass up... With this much pay I could run away. Leave the Crows and build my own life! Can you imagine?"

Zevran gave her an amused smile. "You think they'll let you off the hook, just like that?"

"I'm sure they won't."

"And you do realize I would have to kill you for doing this, no?" His smile didn't waver.

Len took an involuntary step back, knowing well that if he so wanted to he could end her life on the spot. The female assassin put on a confident mask, matching his smile. "But we're friends, so you won't do it. Right, Zevran?"

"Hmm… We will see what this deal brings you. I'm not particularly loyal to the Crows myself, you know." He walked up to the bed, gazing down at the Warden. She looked to be a capable fighter back in the alley, but now she lay helplessly and at their mercy. This allowed him to take a closer look however, and he wasn't disappointed.

His brown eyes trailed down her features, from her dark-brown hair to the swell of her chest under the armor and the curvature of her wide hips. She reminded him of a porcelain doll whose cheek had accidently been chipped, her fair skin and pink lips enticing him.

He reached down, stroking the slight imperfection on her otherwise perfect skin, taking notice of the fire in her sky blue eyes.

The other woman in the room watched him with a smirk. "Pretty one, isn't she?"

He nodded. "I didn't know Grey Wardens allowed women in their ranks. She almost looks to be of noble blood."

"She is."

His head turned towards her. "Oh?"

"The Teyrn gave me more information than he probably should have… He has a huge head, that one." The redhead folded her arms. "He boasted about taking out the previous owner of the title, along with his family. He said this one was the last loose end, which is why he was willing to pay me handsomely for her."

Zevran raised a thin brow, trying to understand the man's logic. "Isn't it easier to just let us kill her? Why would he want her delivered alive, instead?"

"Who knows… you know these nobles can be sick bastards. Maybe he has something planned for her." She shrugged. "Either way, I don't care. I just want my sovereigns."

The elf returned his attention to the Grey Warden, wondering if perhaps death would be a more merciful fate.

"How could you let this happen!? Were you not with her?!" Morrigan demanded irritably with folded arms, glaring at the Grey Warden currently passing in the room like a caged wolf, the eyes of their companions also upon him.

"I was, but there was nothing I could do!"

"Then what good are you? Are you so worthless that you cannot even—"

"The woman I care about was taken from me by some unknown... dangerous people! So if you're trying to make me feel worse you're wasting your time!" Alistair's snapped, frustration straining his voice.

Morrigan opened her mouth to protest, but Wynne stepped in to put an end to their argument.

"Now is not the time to point fingers! We should be thinking about what to do to find her quickly."

"She's right." Leliana added, worry creasing her brow. "If they were skilled enough to take her, they must be hired professionals. Did you hear them say anything that can help us?"

Alistair took in a breath to calm himself, recalling the name. "One of them mentioned something about… Crows."

Her eyes widened a fraction. "The Crows…"

He frowned. "You know of them?"

She nodded. "They are a renowned guild of assassins from Antiva. But they often do business outside of their country, if the person who hires them is willing to pay for it, that is."

"Then I bet Loghain is responsible for this…" He uttered angrily, crossing his arms.

"It is possible. They would have to possess a great deal of wealth to be able to afford their services." She gave him a puzzled look. "I have never heard of them taking hostages, however. It's possible a deal was struck outside of the initial contract—an agreement to bring her alive, but to kill the other Warden."

"How does a Chantry nun know about all this?" Morrigan lifted a brow.

Leliana smiled innocently. "One hears many things during one's travels, no? I was a traveling minstrel in Orlais before I became a sister, and tales of intrigue were part of my repertoire."

"I see…" Morrigan's suspicious look only deepened. There was definitely more to this woman than she let on.

"Well, we at least we know who we're dealing with. Now we have to figure out a way to find her…" Alistair muttered, anxiously rubbing the back of his neck.

A bark resounded in the room, drawing their attention to Everil's hound as he sat nearby. Magnus then stood and walked up to the door, scratching at it with its paw.

"You know where she is?" Wynne prompted.

The dog barked again, sitting by the door.

"They say mabari can track anything from miles away... I bet he can follow her scent." Alistair said and then turned to them with renewed confidence. "All right. Hurry up and get your weapons. We're going."

Magnus led them through the back roads, sniffing the ground without pause as Alistair and the others followed him. It felt awkward to be led through Denerim by a dog, but mabari were known not only for their strength and resilience in battle, but also for their hunting skills.

Alistair made a mental note to reward him later, once its mistress was found and brought back to them. To him.

It barked in another direction, leading them further through the least populated areas of the city as the sun began to set, leaving them in near darkness with only Morrigan's flame to light the way. They soon neared the harbor, where massive ships were docked. This was the main point of trade between Ferelden and countries across the sea, and only fishermen and merchants lived nearby. So although people walked the streets, only men could be seen at every turn.

They hid in one of the alleys leading to the harbor, looking over the corner at the people walking by.

Magnus barked repeatedly towards the well-lit building further down the harbor, and they knew then where their companion was being kept.

"Is that the sea?" Morrigan asked quietly from behind, hearing the rolling of the waves from where they stood. She stepped forth, pushing Alistair aside to get closer. This was the first time she ever smelled the ocean, heard the rolling of the waves, though the chatter of the people around them seemed to lightly drown away the pleasant sound.

Suddenly he pulled her back by the arm.

"What are you doing?" He bit out. "You can't just go out there! What if they saw you with us earlier?"

She glared at him, roughly pulling her arm out of his grip.

"Then what do you suggest? Shall we hide until the Blight is upon us instead?!" She hissed back.

Leliana and Wynne let out simultaneous sighs, while Sten merely watched the exchange.

"Just... Give me a minute." He grumbled before poking his head around the corner, trying to take in more of the scenery.

He took a closer look at the building and the sign hanging high upon it, reading the words The Pearl written over it. Men were gathered outside, laughing loudly while drinking and playing games as women served them ale. He recalled his last trip to Denerim with Duncan, when the soldiers at the castle had suggested they visit the place, claiming it was their favorite spot for a pastime. Though he had also heard from others that both guards and petty criminals gathered there, often too busy having their fun to notice each other's presence.

A group of five heavily armored soldiers caught his attention, their backs stiff as they took purposeful steps towards The Pearl. Anyone else would have likely seen a group of friends seeking some fun, but from a distance they definitely lacked the high spirits of men looking to drink and get laid. They went towards the back of the bar, possibly going in through the backdoor to avoid the crowd, allowing him to catch a glimpse of their shields.

Alistair's eyes widened, immediately recognizing the symbol drawn upon them. "Howe… He was the one who ordered her capture!"

"What are you on about?" Morrigan muttered irritably.

"I don't have time to explain." He turned to them, eyes sharp. "But we have to hurry and get Everil out of there."

"What do you want us to do?" Leliana asked him, tilting her head worriedly.

He paused, surprised as they all turned to him.

As fellow Grey Wardens, he and Everil had somewhat shared some of the decision-making up until now, but this was the first time he was fully in charge of anything or anyone. He swallowed, looking at each of them as he considered their strengths and weaknesses, trying to think as she would in this situation. If he made the wrong call, he would either get himself and their leader killed, or get everyone killed all together.

Everil's words as they sat upon those stairs suddenly crossed his mind.

" _Be more self-reliant…"_

He had to save her. There was no time for doubt.

"The place is dangerous, and we don't know how many of them there are. We also don't know where she is… all of us bursting in won't do." He uttered, and then turned to them. "One man won't draw as much attention as a group of people would, so I'll go in on my own and try to blend in."

He then shifted his gaze to Leliana.

"Leliana, you're good at sneaking around... I want you to find another way in and deal with those soldiers we just saw. Can you do that?"

A smirk crossed her features. "Of course."

"Magnus, Sten, Wynne and Morrigan... You four will remain outside and watch for any reinforcements trying to enter the building. Sten and the hound can take on the enemy, while the two of you back them up. Got it?"

"Yes." Wynne replied confidently. "Be careful in there, young man."

"Right…" He drew in a breath and pulled the hood over his head, trying to hide his face and armor from view. "Let's do this."

He casually walked out of the alley, steadily making his way to the bar. Leliana waited a few minutes, covering her own face with her hood before nimbly rushing forth, using as much cover as she could to make her way to the brothel.

Alistair neared the place, cautiously eyeing the people around him while also avoiding direct eye contact. He didn't recognize the first few men he ran into just outside, and they seemed too preoccupied burying their faces in women's breasts to even notice him walking by. He pushed the door open and stepped in, drawing the glances of some of the patrons, though as soon as they saw him enter, they returned to what their women, games and ale.

He scanned the area. It was dimly lit on the inside, with only a few candles here and there to keep people from tripping over each other. As he walked moans reached his ears, along with the smell of sweat and booze. His nose wrinkled involuntarily in disgust. He found himself wondering if it was necessary to be drunk in order to endure it, or if it was a smell only frequent visitors grew to love.

At the tables, women openly wrapped their legs around the men, while they fondled them freely and without shame. A bar was at the far corner, where ale was constantly being poured to be delivered to the guests.

It was strange to see such a venue in the capital of his country, but then again sailors and soldiers needed their entertainment. He imagined Cailan also knew little of it all, despite it practically standing in his back yard. Not to mention there was probably some unspoken rule not to speak of what went on within the one place in Denerim were most could get away with murder.

"Hi there, handsome."

He turned to see a woman with her chest in the open, as she placed her hands on his broad shoulders. He gulped, trying hard to avoid looking at her half naked body as he gently pushed her away.

"Sorry... " He cleared his throat. "Not here for that."

She gave him a shocked look before she huffed and stalked away, heading for another incoming guest.

He climbed the stairs up to the second floor of the brothel, which overlooked the entire bar. He pulled down the hood to allow him to see the place better. Rows of rooms lined the above area in a large square, a hallway opening up to more rooms on either side. A few couples leaned against the wooden railing guarding the top floor, completely oblivious of him. He looked around, then continued on, a hand upon the hilt of his sword.

Len paced uncomfortably. "They should be here by now."

"Who?" Zevran frowned, taking a seat at the edge of the bed.

"The Teyrn's soldiers, of course. I'll be back... I'm going to meet them and lead them in." She walked out, closing the door behind her.

She smirked as the made her way through the hall.

Of course an arrangement was already made. They were waiting for her, and all she needed to do was give them the room's location and take her money. She had to leave Zevran behind, else she would risk him killing her to save his skin.

She crossed the T shaped hallway, passing a few rooms and turning the corner towards the storeroom in the back of the tavern, nearly bumping into a man in her haste.

Zevran shrugged at the door, then turned his eyes down to the Warden, watching as she pressed her lips together.

"She gave you a strong doze, eh? But I suppose that's what it takes to keep you this docile, considering that look you're giving me." He grinned, folding his arms. "You know, I don't much like the idea of turning you over to someone who sounds like they want to torture or make an example out of you. Instead, I could just kill you and fulfill my contract…"

He brought a hand to her face, running a finger down her cheek. "But then taking the life of such a ravishing woman like yourself would make feel like a terrible man."

She glared back at him in silence, her eyes murderous.

"Hmm… decisions, decisions…" He put his chin on his first, seemingly pensive as he stared down at her. "What do you say I just roll the dice and we find out what happens after? Yes, I think I would rather try that."

He chuckled, then produced a small envelop from one of his bags. "However, before we can do that I have to help you out of your little predicament. Just please promise not to kill me after I do this, all right? A life for a life."

Everil's eyes softened a fraction, a good enough answer for him.

He leaned over, reaching to part her lips with his thumb only to stop mid-action, an idea suddenly occurring to him. "Actually... Let's make this a little more exciting, shall we?"

He poured the powder into his mouth and then lowered himself, pressing his lips against hers and parting then with his tongue.

Her eyes grew wide, indignation quickly flaring. Yes, she had agreed to let the man live if he helped her, but this was not part of the deal.

He felt the powder slide down into her mouth, as she involuntarily swallowed it with a weak groan. He let out a pleased sound as he tasted the sweetness of her, enjoying the softness of her moist lips. He knew it was time to withdraw from her enticing mouth, yet he was finding it increasingly difficult.

That is, until the door flew open. "Ev-!"

Zevran pulled away from her flushed face, his head snapping in the man's direction, a smile spreading upon his lips upon quickly recognizing the now stunned intruder.

"Oh! You're alive?" He uttered awkwardly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "That means you beat Thorpe. Impressive!"

Alistair's initial shock was promptly replaced by an anger he had never felt before, and his darkening expression made Zevran instantly realize just how bad the scene before him looked.

"Wait—"

The Grey Warden drew his sword without a word, and in two steps he was on top of him, grabbing him by the front of his leather armor and effortlessly slamming him against the nearest wall.

"Wait! Let me explain!" Zevran raised his hands, trying to appease the man who was currently and precariously pressing his blade against his throat.

"Explain what?!" He snapped, his nose nearly touching his, his hand itching to slice his neck open. "How you tried to kill me and took her away?! Or how I walked in on you forcing yourself upon her?!"

Zevran quickly drew his blade and crouched, slithering out of his grasp like a phantom and leaving only his own cloak in his hand.

Alistair found himself facing the empty wall, a dagger pointed at his neck as the elf stood behind him.

"She was paralyzed by the woman I work with, so I was giving her the antidote." Zevran uttered irritably, and then a smile tugged at his lips. "Though I admit it was hard to stop tasting those lips of hers."

Alistair dropped the cloth, and before the elf could cut him, shoved the knife away with his hand, his blood spraying the floor. He whirled around, slashing sideways with his sword only for it to clash with the rogue's dagger.

Zevran grinned, his arms shaking as he held back the man's blade with both of his. "You know, I couldn't bring myself to kill your partner, but one Grey Warden is better than none. I could just kill you and blame the rest of this mess on someone else."

"Try it! Yet another reason for me to run you through!" Alistair pulled back his sword then slashed sideways.

Zevran took a step back, blocking the hit as Alistair continued to attack him. He ducked; dodging a diagonal slash, then took another step back.

The two soon found themselves out in the hallway, as Alistair continued to advance on him, knocking items off decorative tables as he swung his blade. Zevran twisted out of the way, then slashed, forcing Alistair to block with his armored arm.

Len met the soldiers, one of them holding a bag of coin in his hand.

"About time you showed up." One of them uttered irritably.

"She's all yours." She scowled, pointing over her shoulder with her thumb. "Now pay up."

He scoffed. "What? You thought we were just going to pay you without having the girl in our hands first? Are you stupid?"

Her brows shot up. "But... The deal was..."

"The deal was a fair trade: The last Cousland for the coin. You're taking us to her first!"

"All right, fine!" She raised her hands up. "Follow me."

She turned on her heel, cursing under her breath while leading the men inside. As they stepped into the dark storeroom, a sound coming from above made the group stop and quickly reach for their blades.

"What was that?"

One of them suddenly felt hands on his chin, only to have his neck broken with a sickening crack. His body crumbled to the ground, while the others turned to watch in shock, unable to see what caused him to fall dead.

As they hurried forward, another one soon followed, and Len could immediately tell there was another assassin in the room with them.

"Damn it!" She drew her blades, looking up at the dark ceiling, where only a bit of light filtered through the cracks between the wooden boards.

The leader of the soldiers greeted his teeth, drawing his own blade. "We're sitting ducks here. We have to keep moving!"

She clicked her tongue. "Just... Run!"

The remaining group rushed forth, only to be halted by a female form that dropped from above. She fell on a knee and slowly rose, drawing her weapons as she smirked at the Crow.

"Sorry, but I cannot allow you to go further in." Leliana's seductive voice reached their ears, as the soldier fidgeted nervously.

"Who in damnation are you?" Len spat.

If she wanted to get paid, she had to make sure the bastards made it to the Grey Warden.

"Someone whose friend you took."

"So you're another Grey Warden? I thought there was only two left..."

"I'm no Warden, but I'm their comrade none the less." Leliana took a step forward. "And I will make you regret ever crossing our path."

With that Laliana kicked forth, her daggers aiming for the leader of the knights, but blocked by the woman as she slid between the two.

"Hurry and go! I'll take care of her!" Len shouted, struggling against Leliana's daggers with her own.

The three men quickly went around, and when Leliana tried to stop them, the other assassin rushed in to stand in her way. She swung at her, as Len deflected the hit. The two red heads slashed at each other, their weapons clashing with each attack.

Leliana shifted, avoiding a dagger to the side before going down to kick at her feet. Len hopped back, then threw several smaller knifes at the woman. Leliana ran, dodging them as they hit the wall.

She had to end it fast and go help against the knights.

"You can't beat me!" Len snapped, pulling up her mask while releasing one of her flasks.

The flask landed by Leliana's feet, filling the air with smoke.

Len laughed, readying her daggers to go in for the kill when suddenly lithe arms snaked around her neck from behind.

"Do you know what makes a true assassin?" Leliana laughed seductively into her ear, a delicate hand taking hold of her mask. "Immunity to your own tricks."

She pulled down the mask, forcing the woman to breathe in the gas. Len gasped for air as the poison burned through her muscles, taking away her ability to move. It then paralyzed her lungs, robbing her of breath.

"I was trained to build resistance against such tricks by one of the best assassins in Orlais, you see. It seems you didn't receive the same sort of training." She shook her head, clicking her tongue in mock pity. "Such a shame."

Then having had enough of the squirming, she shoved her blade into her back, pierced through the front of the younger woman's chest.

"May the Maker take you." She whispered in her ear one last time, then let her fall unceremoniously to the floor, Len's blood pooling beneath her body as she struggled to breathe.

Leliana then swung her dagger, wiping it clean of blood before turning on her heel, leaving her to bleed out in the dark as she quickly stepped towards the door.

Everil grunted as her body slowly regained the sense of feel, her muscles tingling. She weakly pulled herself to the rope around her wrists, using her teeth to untie the knot. She then slowly pushed herself up to a sitting position, her body protesting with every move she made. She forced her legs over the edge of the bed, letting out a breath before reaching up to roughly wipe her mouth with the back of her hand.

"That... Bastard." She grumbled angrily, scowling at the door.

Then using the nightstand, she carefully pushed herself to her feet. Finding more stability she took a step, then walked the rest of the way to the door. She could hear fighting outside, as well as the squeals of women in the building.

" _I have to help Alistair…"_

She stepped out, glancing both ways for enemies. Seeing none, she tried to hurry down the hall, when suddenly three armored figures blocked her path, blades in their hands.

She quickly reached for her own, only to find she had none.

"Blast it…" She breathed, taking a step back.

The one who appeared to be the leader gave her a dark smile. "A pleasure to see you again, my lady."

"What does Howe want with me?" She muttered hoarsely, narrowing her eyes.

"Your people are much more loyal than he thought. They are not taking kindly to his rule. But if he showed to them how truly weak the Couslands once were..." His smirked deepened.

"Weak?" Her hands closed into fists. "You think I'm weak?"

She suddenly charged forth, forcing the knight to lift his sword up in the narrow hallway. But despite her body's unusually slow response, she was still faster than he. She quickly brought her palm up between his arms, crushing his nose before she twisted her body, taking his sword from his hands.

She pointed the tip at him as blood flowed freely down his nose, mouth and neck. "Allow me to show you 'weak'."

He greeted his teeth, drawing the short sword at his hip. "Take her!"

The passage was too narrow for even her to swing her newly acquired weapon, so she rushed sword first, making the man cover himself with arm and blade.

She surprised him by climbing his body, using his arms to propel herself forth and landing behind them. She ran, leading them out of the corridor.

Alistair huffed as he was kicked in the stomach by the rogue, forced to back away from him. He gripped his sword and glared at him as he rushed forth, forcing him to block this time.

They had somehow taken the fight downstairs, as the occupants watched in awe, drinking ale and placing bets on a winner.

Alistair slashed again, this time with more force, knocking Zevran back onto a table. The impact broke the legs, making him fall flat on the floor along with it.

Alistair took the opportunity, kneeling over him with his blade at his neck.

Suddenly a man falling down the stairs drew both of their attention, along that of those around them. They looked up to the balcony, spotting the female Warden fighting the remaining two soldiers.

Everil stepped back, blocking each attack from one of the knights. Seeing him go for a thrust she tilted her head, the blade missing her by inches as hers found its way into the man's unprotected neck. Blood sprayed onto her as she quickly pushed him out of the way, forcing him over the railing to the floor below, his body landing upon the bar table.

The remaining knight grabbed the sword the last victim dropped, using it to rush at her with a cry.

She blocked the hit, her feet sliding back.

He was obviously no longer interested in taking her alive, as he continued to viciously attack her.

She scowled, docking a sideward slash before jumping on the railing, then jumping again with all her might. Her sword was extended as she twisted the top of her body, slashing the blade all the way through the man's throat and severing his head.

Red sprayed out of his neck as his body fell to its knees, then forward with a sickening thud.

The whole place grew quiet, whispers of the violent nature of Grey Wardens filling the air.

She craned her head to gaze over the small crowd of undesirables, her eyes briefly meeting Alistair's from above. He kept his blade pointed to the elf, the man who had been ordered to kill them both.

She couldn't tell if it was the drug still coursing through her, or if she was stressed to the breaking point, but she was sick of it.

They were risking their lives trying to save Ferelden, as well as the very people in the room currently judging them. Yet Loghain was constantly throwing obstacles in their way, allied with the man who had taken everything away from her. Still, there was no doubt this scene was about to bolster the rumors both traitors have spread about them, aggravating their already dire situation.

She numbly stepped over to the severed head, leaning down to grab it by the hair with one hand as she held on to the bloodstained sword with the other.

She knew that what she was about to do would likely bring forth more fear than respect, but she would turn this situation around on the bastards and build a new reputation.

And this crowd of sailors, soldiers, whores and townsfolk would serve just as well.

She approached the railing, lifting the head up for all to see.

"Know that I was dragged here against my will by assassins hired by none other than Teyrn Loghain! We Grey Wardens were forced to defend ourselves, against them and those who seek to end our lives in his name!" She told them with conviction, surveying the room as they listened, some with shocked stares. "Loghain claims we betrayed King Cailan at Ostagar! Well we say he killed our king when he rode off with his men and left us all for dead!"

A few gasps were heard, while others also grumbled protests. Leliana stood just outside of view, listening to her talk with a relieved smile.

"He may try to silence us by sending assassins to do his bidding, or using falsehoods to turn you against us! But know that we shall not rest until the Blight has been defeated and the false king brought to justice for his betrayal!"

She tossed the head over the rail, making it roll over the wooden floor below. "So let this be a warning to those foolish enough to get in the way of our sacred duty! Which is to save you and the rest of Ferelden from the Blight!"

She didn't know if it was the ale talking, but to her surprise, the majority of the crowd cheered. They slammed their hands and their pints against their tables, howling for her.

Zevran watched in amazement. This woman had been ill just moments ago, and she had still managed to fight off three heavily armored men on her own. The way she talked and her regal posture as she stood, covered in her enemy's blood while staring down at whores and men with cold blue eyes… it was arousing. He wanted to follow her, to be hers and hers alone.

Alistair watched her with admiration, and although he would have avoided using the head as a prop, his chest swelled up with pride at her words.

"Bring him out with us." She told him as she made her way down the stairs, the people around her watching her as they continued to cheer.

"Got it." Alistair gave her a firm nod, putting on a stern look to avoid showing everyone how relieved he was to see she was back.

He reached down to grab Zevran, roughly hoisting him up by the front of his leather armor before dragging him along, his sword still over his throat. Leliana hopped down the stairs, following the three out through the front door.

Once outside they met with the others, gathering in the alley as everyone turned a scrutinizing stare to the elf.

Everil turned to her fellow Warden. "You can release him now."

Alistair's head snapped in her direction, confusion etched upon his features.

Zevran smirked at him, recalling the deal he had made with her. "Yes, please do let me go."

He roughly shoved him forward, pinning him with a glare. "I suggest you don't try anything."

The elf chuckled in amusement. He knew he was out numbered, but that didn't mean he couldn't at least have his fun.

Everil then gave Zevran a smile that made Alistair slightly nervous, his chest tightening as she seductively approached him.

"That kiss must have softened you up a little…" Zevran shamelessly told her, a cocky grin on his face. "Did you want another one?"

Her fist then connected with his jaw, the impact nearly knocking him back as he bit the inside of his cheek.

He spat out blood. "I take it that's a no."

"You may have helped me back there, but no one kisses me without my permission!" She snapped, giving him a dignified look.

Alistair's anxiety completely dissipated, a satisfied smile spreading upon his lips.

"Fair enough." Zevran laughed lightly, trying to recover from the blow to his ego while also licking the blood from his lips. "Now that that's out of the way… May I make a humble request?"

"Make it quick." Everil said curtly, crossing her arms. He had spared her life when he could have easily killed her, the least she could do was listen to him.

"Let me come with you."

It was a request none of them expected.

Alistair quickly stepped in. "Not happening!"

She raised her hand to Alistair, effectively silencing his protest while giving the elf a hard look. "How could I trust you? For all I know, you could try to kill us in our sleep."

Zevran shook his head. "I couldn't go back to the Crows now even if I wanted to. They would do away with me on the spot for failing to kill you the first time."

"How do I know you speak the truth?"

"I was never loyal to them from the beginning." He chuckled, a smirk upon his features.

"They bought me on the slave trade for a few sovereigns when I was a child. I've been forced to serve them ever since. And let's just say there's not much fostering for loyalty when you're constantly abused and failing training results in certain death."

A sympathetic look flickered before her eyes, but she quickly hid it, probing further. "What do you have to offer?"

"I am a great lock picker, good cook, and your friend here can attest for my battle skills." He grinned to Alistair, whose eyes had murder painted all over them.

She sighed. They needed all the help they could get, and she wasn't about to turn it away when it was offered. "Fine. You can come along—"

"Everil…"

She sent Alistair a reassuring smile, then turned cool eyes to Zevran as he pointed a thumb at her fellow Warden. "But if you try anything, he will be the one to end you."

"Understood." He responded without hesitation and then took her hand, bending over to kiss it gently as he spoke solemnly against it. "I am your man to do as you wish. I will follow you till the edge of the world if need be. This I swear."

She tilted her head curtly, and this time she did not hit him.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter X

They were heading down to the Brecilian Forest, where the Dalish caravan was last spotted, intending on garnishing their support against the Blight. As they traveled further into the woods, the foliage became thicker, making it harder for them to see past the leaves and branches that only allowed minimal light to filter through. The area reminded her much of the Korkari Wilds, with the exception of the swampy waters on every corner.

Everil cast worried eyes upon her fellow Warden, who was riding his horse just a few steps ahead of her. He had been silent since their departure from Denerim, keeping to himself or staring off into space whenever she tried to talk to him. Of course she had an idea as to why he was upset, her mind taking her back to the moment when she had allowed Zevran to join them.

She sighed, her chest constricting at the sudden lack of communication between them. She had been thinking of what was best for them at the time, whether he liked having the lecherous elf with them or not. And although she was trying to appease him somehow, Zevran was not making it any easier.

"Is your friend sick or something?" The aforementioned rogue approached her, riding the horse that once belonged to Leliana, she and Wynne now sharing a ride to accommodate the additional body in their group.

Everil sighed. "No. I'm sure he's fine."

"Truly? He has been moping for quite a while now. Perhaps he should consider going back to The Pearl and bed one of those beautiful ladies."

Alistair glanced over his shoulder, sending him a warning glare. "I can hear you, you know."

Zevran grinned. "I am only making an honest suggestion, my friend-one that has worked for me many times in the past. There is no better activity to relieve stress than a night of passionate sex."

"Oh Maker..." Alistair uttered irritably, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, I must say that is one of the numerous expressions I've heard women scream in the middle of the night," Zevran said proudly. "The ladies in Antiva love me, so I even have a reputation. I could tell you about parts of the female body that you've never heard could be used to pleasure them into oblivion. Whatever you've done to a woman before wouldn't compare. I can even teach you positions you have never tried before."

Alistair sighed miserably, while a blushing Everil looked at Zevran as if he had grown an extra head.

"You should consider it, my friend. You will feel better afterwards, I assure you," He said, sending the female Warden a seductive smile.

She smiled awkwardly and then looked away, trying not give the man any ideas.

Soon they found a small body of water for the horses, and Everil took the opportunity for them to set up camp for the night. There was still no trace of the dalish elves and their caravan, but they would be searching again in the morning.

Upon setting up her tent she stood and looked around camp. Morrigan was off on her own again, reading her mother's grimoire by her personal campfire. Sten was also a distance away while the rest of her companions were camped closer to their much larger fire. She saw Alistair step out of his tent to make his way to the fire, taking a seat on the ground beside it.

With a nod to herself she headed towards him, a small smile on her face as she took a seat next to him.

"It's chilly out here, isn't it?" She prompted quietly, making another attempt at a conversation.

He gave her a brief glance. "Yes."

"I thought we would find them by now." She sighed, picking up a stick and tossing it in the fire. "Maybe we just have terrible luck."

"Maybe..." He replied quietly, bending his leg and resting his arm upon his knee.

She eyed him with a frown before shifting her attention to the flames. Alistair had always been open with her, since the beginning. He even trusted her with his deepest secrets, and the kisses they shared... She thought there was something more between them.

She set her jaw and turned her eyes to him again. "All right, what's wrong? Why have you been so quiet lately?"

He didn't look at her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh please... That there is the longest you've spoken to me since before we left Denerim." Her brow furrowed worriedly. "You nearly reminded me of Sten, with all the grunting and the awkward single-word answers."

He breathed out of his nose, eyes downcast. "It's just been a long couple of days. I'm fine."

"We've had long days from the beginning, Alistair. You can't fool me."

"Fine!" Alistair glared at her, a look he never directed towards her before. "What do you want me to say? Shall I comment on the weather? Or perhaps I should tell you just how wonderful it was to listen to your new friend tell me to go bed other women, while watching him leer over you like a mabari drools over fresh meat."

Everil's eyes widened at his outburst. "You're... Jealous?"

"I'm not jealous! I just hate his guts," He protested, looking away with a huff. "And what is worse is that you weren't even willing to listen when I said not to recruit the bastard."

She let out a chuckle, earning another glare from him.

"I'm glad you find this funny..."

"No, I think it's endearing."

"Endearing?" He raised a brow. "What about me being upset is endearing?"

"That you want me all to yourself," She murmured and smiled sweetly at him, completely disarming him.

"I…uh…I…" He mumbled incoherently, his brain suddenly malfunctioning as he attempted to formulate a competent comeback. How was it this woman always managed to take away his ability to talk or think?

She waited patiently for him to form some sort of sentence structure, her smile never fading as he opened and closed his mouth.

Frustrated, he took her hand, pushing himself up to his feet and her with him. She gave him a puzzled look, letting him tug at her arm and walk her out of camp.

Zevran looked on from afar, his brows going up as he watched their retreating forms. He cast a curious glance towards Leliana, who smiled at him, quietly nodding her head.

"Oh…" He looked down to the ground where he sat, reaching up to scratch his cheek. "Well, it all makes sense now."

xxxxxxx

Everil followed him quietly until they reached the river, where the bright light of the moon illuminated the area.

Alistair stopped and let go of her hand as he turned to face her, the glow of the distant campfire reflecting upon his honey colored eyes.

Confusion furrowed her brow, the sight of his piercing gaze nearly taking her breath away. "Al—"

"You don't get it, do you?" He uttered quietly, reaching up to cup her cheek, his touch effectively silencing her. His fingers slid softly down her cheek to the strands of hair resting over her shoulder, gently lifting them and letting them cascade back down as he spoke. "I was terrified when they took you away from me. All I wanted was to find you and bring you back to me."

Everil's eyes widened, her heart skipping a beat.

"Then when I walked in on him kissing you..." He traced her lips with his thumb. "I was so angry it was hard to think..."

What an idiot she had been…Of course he wouldn't like the elf. Yes, he helped her in the end, but Zevran had initially tried to kill them both. He hadn't questioned his duties then, he was doing what he was told and probably would have fulfilled his contract had he not grown infatuated with her.

She swallowed. But still, regardless of what happened, they needed help.

"But... as I said many times, we need all the help we can get. You may not trust him, but he could prove to be a valuable asset."

"I know…" He wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her to him as he leaned down to brush his lips against hers. "Just don't let him near you and I'll play along."

Everil numbly nodded, and before she could say anything else he sealed her lips with his in a light kiss. When he pulled back she reached up, her hands cupping his cheeks as she claimed his lips this time, pressing her tongue against them.

He gladly allowed her tongue in as he invaded her mouth with his, a pleased sigh escaping him as he enjoyed the taste of her lips.

Her heart raced as their tongues slowly danced, her arms snaking around his neck and allowing him to further deepen the kiss. He released a heavy breath as he freely explored her mouth, his hands sliding to the small of her back, itching to go further down.

She suddenly found herself pinned to a nearby tree, letting out a muffled moan. The way he devoured her lips made her feel as if she were nearly suffocating, forcing her to open her mouth to take a breath. But instead of pulling back his lips strayed, leaving a hot trail of moist kisses along her jaw, to then focus on her neck, smiling inwardly upon hearing her moan.

"Alistair…" She gasped, his hot breath tickling her skin.

Hearing his name snapped him back to reality, stopping his movements as he panted for breath.

She bit her lip, yearning for more. But to her chagrin he slowly pulled away.

"I... We shouldn't," He uttered weakly.

She tilted her head, her hands sliding down to rest upon his heaving chest. "Why not...?"

"Because I want a serious relationship first... to show you you're not just any woman to me," He murmured, looking into her eyes as he reached up to tenderly stroke her cheek with his thumb.

Although slightly disappointed, she leaned into his touch, her hand coming up to cover his. "I understand..."

"Thank you..." He took her hand then brought it up to kiss the top of her fingers. "Now... what do you say we go back before the others think we actually went through with it?"

She gazed at him through her lashes. "Even if they did, I would not care."

"I admit I wouldn't either, especially the elf," He muttered as the two began to make their way back, his hand still holding hers.

She laughed lightly, her heart soaring as she let him guide her back to camp.

xxxxxxx

They went deeper into the woods and to the east, following traces of wagon wheels over the soil. Ruins began to appear the further they went, tall white spires and statues of a time when the Tevinter Imperium ruled over the lands. The galloping of their horses was the only sound, their only focus being the search for the wandering elves and remaining alert for any trouble that may be hiding behind the foliage.

The faint rustle of the leaves kept them on edge, shifting shadows cast over the landscape as it darkened around them, the thick of the canopy keeping as much light out as possible.

Their horses hopped over a stream, kicking up rocks and water.

Everil sighed. It had been hours since they set out again and still no trace other than the quickly fading grooves their land ships left behind.

"Maybe they moved somewhere else?" She muttered impatiently.

Alistair shook his head. "No, the only other place in Ferelden they could possibly be at is the south, and I'm pretty sure they already know about the Blight."

"They used to visit the Korkari Wilds from time to time, but that was nearly thirty years ago. Mother taught me much about their culture…" Morrigan added from behind her, a corner of her lip going up. "And let me tell you that even though we have not seen them yet, I am certain they already know we are here."

"You think they are watching?" Everil looked over her shoulder to the witch.

"They probably have been from the moment we stepped into the forest."

"Oh… really?" She felt her face warm up, casually looking away as she remembered the heated kiss she had shared with Alistair the night before.

He didn't seem to realize that as she did however, absently looking around as he rode next to her.

"The Dalish are very reclusive and distrustful. They will defend their clan against anything and anyone they perceive as a threat to their people, and with good reason," Morrigan uttered, turning her sharp amber eyes her way with a cynical smile. "First the Tevinter Imperium enslaved them for centuries, destroying their culture and taking over their home in the Dales. Then, after the supposed prophetess Andraste helps set them free, the Chantry itself nearly wipes them out centuries after, all due to the differences in their believes."

"Ah…Yes, I remember learning about that," Everil said uncomfortably. Her family had once been devout Andrastians, loyal to the Chantry. But just as with anything else they believed in, she had questions.

The majority of the people in Ferelden followed the faith and its teachings, making it difficult for the nobility to go against the Chantry without some sort of backlash. This gave them nearly as much power as that of the crown, and far more leverage to oppress people across the land. Which was something she didn't agree with, especially after seeing it first hand at the Circle of Magi.

"Did Flemeth ever give you advice on how to talk to them?" Everil asked quietly.

Morrigan tipped her head in affirmation, returning her gaze with a stern look of her own. "Despite their ever so cautious nature, they will openly welcome any relationship that will benefit their clan as a whole. Be honest and avoid disrespecting their traditions, while offering something in exchange for their support. Doing this will no doubt earn you their trust."

"A trust I would not want to betray, I take it." Everil frowned, knowing they were in their domain at the time.

"Indeed..." Morrigan smiled, completely agreeing with her.

Moments passed as large structures of stone that were covered by greenery emerged around them.

Then suddenly an arrow whistled by Everil's ear, surprising her as it hit the tree a few steps in front of her. Her head snapped to look over her shoulder, just in time to see another arrow flying her way. She quickly dismounted as the horse screeched, startled as the arrow hit too close to it.

The others swiftly did the same.

"Hold your fire, we're not here for trouble!" Everil shouted from behind a tree she was sharing with Leliana, a hollow snap telling her another arrow hit near her head.

"Quiet Shem! You will not go near our camp without leave!" Another arrow flew before her eyes, narrowly missing the tip of her nose.

"Fine!" She snapped. "We seek leave to speak with your clan, please!"

There was a brief pause. "State your business!"

She ran her tongue over her lips, knowing they were likely surrounded. By what Morrigan said they controlled the forest, therefore if they so wanted they would have killed them already.

"I am a Grey Warden. We seek the help of the Dalish to fight the Blight, as per the treaty you signed long ago!"

"Lies! The Grey Wardens are no more!"

She reached into her bag, pulling out the old scroll and unrolling it before her. A seal of a tree was cast upon it, still clearly visible despite its old age. She drew in a breath, and despite Leliana's attempt at reaching out for her she emerged from behind the tree, hands raised while holding the scroll in one.

"That's not true! Two of us yet live!" Everil said and ducked as an arrow graced her hair, making her curse under her breath before she lifted the scroll for them to see. "See for yourself!"

There was another pause, and slowly the elves began to emerge from the shadows. They wore the same colors of the forest, blending in with the woods as if by magic. A female elf then approached her, her short brown hair framing her sunken cheeks and disproportionately large eyes.

They possessed the same physique as Zevran, small and slender when compared to a human's figure. She gave Everil a once over, gazing down at the griffon on her chest plate with a scrutinizing look. "Did they suddenly lower the standards in your order?"

"There is a darkspawn horde killing everything in its wake as we speak, so please just take us to your Keeper," Everil replied quietly while trying to hide her irritation at the insult.

The elf scowled, turning to the others of her group. "Scout ahead. I will lead the Shem to camp."

With an acknowledging bow of their head the elven males spread out, blending into the woods once more. The elf motioned for them to follow, as Everil and the others took hold of their horses' reigns and stalked behind her on foot. The woman obviously didn't trust them yet, constantly looking over her shoulder with a stiff posture.

Alistair glanced worriedly to Everil, whispering to her while eying the elf. "I hope the others aren't this friendly. I mean, can you imagine?"

"I heard that." The woman shot him a look.

He raised his hands in defense with an apologetic smile, earning him another distrustful glower before the elf turned away to lead them further down.

Morrigan rolled her eyes behind the two Grey Wardens, hoping they won't all end up being fed to their halla.

After trekking a mile down, a low growl made their guide freeze on the spot, her hands flying to her weapons. And then a scream further down had her moving, leaving their group behind.

"Wait!" Everil called, then with a click of her tongue she glanced to her companions. "Alistair, Morrigan and Sten come with me. The rest watch the horses."

They ran after her, drawing their weapons when a blur of fur jumped out of the bushes in front of the elf. Everil stopped in her tracks, eyes widening as she took in its appearance. It was a wolf, standing on two legs, with the posture of a man. It let out a roar, bloodstained canines dripping with drool as it pinned the elf with a murderous glare.

It lifted its arm, ready to slash at the woman's stunned form. Everil rushed in, standing between them and blocking the hit with her blade. She gritted her teeth under the force, her eyes locked with the beast's yellow ones.

It roared and lifted its other arm, preparing razor sharp claws. Everil stepped back, its talons gracing her chest plate, sparks flying before she spun and slashed at its chest in response. It howled as blood stained its coat, then with one last look it fled into the woods.

The elf stumbled back, eyes wide as Everil cast her gaze upon her.

"They got them... They got my party," She muttered shakily.

"Everil."

She turned to Alistair as he pointed towards the foliage, sword I'm hand. Deeper out and in the shadows, glowing eyes surrounded them, staring at them for a drawn out moment before the creatures disappeared. She pressed her lips together into a thin line, a terrible feeling sinking into her chest.

xxxxxxx

"Werewolves?"

"That's right." Zathrian, the Dalish clan's Keeper nodded his head somberly. "They have been systematically attacking my people, dragging them out into the forest never to be seen again. Those we save are badly injured... As you can see."

Everil folded her arms, casting a sympathetic gaze to the bloodied elves filling an area of their camp, as the local healers cleaned and dressed their wounds.

"What is worse is that over time... The injured will end up turning into those creatures, and we will be forced to cast them away into the forest. It's like a decease that spreads further each time they attack." He sighed bitterly, his eyes downcast. "I am sorry, but regardless of the treaty signed by my predecessors, until I know my people are safe again, I cannot lend you our aid."

Everil looked around once more, the moans of the injured and suffering filling what could have otherwise been a peaceful place. She sighed, taking a moment to think of what to do.

"Is there anything that can be done to help your people?" She uttered, eyes still upon the injured.

Morrigan shook her head with irritation, while Wynne gave the Warden an approving smile.

Zathrian's expression subtly brightened with hope. "There is... Obtaining the heart of the werewolf leader, Witherfang, can cure my people and eliminate the threat at its core. Those I sent to accomplish this task never returned, but you and your companions may just have what it takes to get it done."

"All right then." She gave the man a firm look. "But I want you to promise you will keep your word and lend us your aid afterwards."

"Of course. You have my word, Grey Warden." He bowed his head, troubled eyes upon her. "But you must kill their leader, no matter what. Witherfang's heart is the only cure."

There was something about the man that bothered her, but she couldn't quite place it. Perhaps it was the way he had avoided looking her in the eye during their entire conversation, but if there was anything she had learned this far it was that things were not as simple as they seemed in any situation.

"So where do we start searching for this Witherfang?"

He waved his staff towards the other side of camp, further into the forest. "The last scouts I sent said they saw it near the ancient temple my people occupied long ago. Be careful, however... The temple is still protected by magic meant to keep out intruders."

"Got it," Everil said before directing her gaze to her companions. "I'm taking Morrigan, Wynne, Alistair and my hound with me. The rest of your will remain here and await our return."

Zevran folded his arms. "I must say this feels much like a conflict of interests."

Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. "What do you mean?"

"You take Alistair wherever you go. Why not choose someone else for a change? Some of us would like to see some action too, you know."

Everil pinned the assassin with an irritated look. "My decisions have nothing to do with our relationship. We're both Grey Wardens, so we share most of the responsibility and watch each other's backs."

"More like each other's backsides." Zevran slyly smirked at her.

"Oh shut up," Everil replied with a frustrated sigh, her cheeks turning a shade of pink before she whirled around. "We'll be back soon. Don't cause trouble."

Alistair returned the elf's teasing grin with a subtle glare before he followed her, his own face a light shade of red.

xxxxxxxx

They entered the forest once more, and the deeper they went the more intricate the trails became. They twisted around the terrain and under natural bridges made of fallen trees. It was quiet despite the distant sound of a waterfall and the rustling of the leaves as the gentle breeze traveled around them. The air felt much colder, a strange charge in the area telling them there was already magic surrounding them.

Soon they reached a waterfall and a series of bridges crossing the water below it. It was a breathtaking sight, but a distant howl shattered the peace upon it.

Everil paused in her tracks, lifting a hand up for the others to stop. Standing at the center of the landmass, in the middle of the river was a werewolf, looking at them intently. She drew her weapon, and so did the others, but the wolf didn't attack.

"You… You were sent here by Zathrian, didn't you?" It growled menacingly, edging closer to her, but keeping his distance.

"I came to help his people. Why are you attacking them? Where is Witherfang?" She eyed him suspiciously, seeing more of them hiding beyond the river.

"You are an outsider, blinded by his lies. You know nothing of our suffering, of what this curse has done to us. And yet you seek our leader?" He growled menacingly. "I will not let you near her!"

Everil frowned. So there was something the Keeper wasn't telling her about all this.

"Wait... I'm not here for Zathrian and if there is something more I need to know, then I am not here to fight." She said with a firm tone. "If you explain things to me we can come to an agreement."

The wolf seemed to hesitate, not quite trusting her yet.

She lifted a hand to it as she slowly sheathed her sword, visibly shocking the creature. She was making an attempt at conversation when others had previously just attacked them.

She extended the hand she had lifted, reaching for a handshake. "My name is Everil. Let us talk."

The wolf eyed her hand for a moment, before slowly reaching out to take it.

Just as he did however, an arrow shot out of the woods, gracing the wolf's arm.

"Liar!" He cried out and swatted at her.

Everil clicked her tongue and dodged, her eyes glancing towards the woods before turning back to the warewolf as he ran.

"Kill them!" He commanded before vanishing into the woods.

The remaining werewolves charged, running through the shallow water like a stampede of rabid dogs.

Everil quickly pulled out her sword as one of them pounced on her claws first. She blocked, took a step back, and then swung her dagger, cutting off one of its arms.

Morrigan and Wynne moved away as one of the werewolves snuck around Everil and Alistair, only to be pinned down from behind by Magnus.

More howls cut through the forest as more creatures attacked them, but this time a wave of arrows cut their path, taking out some of them. One of the monsters turned to its friends, motioning for a retreat as the remaining bodies either bled by the riverside or floated down stream.

Everil let out a breath, looking down at the carnage with growing irritation. There was more to these creatures than bloodlust, and it was evident something was driving them. Had she found out what it was that caused them to hate the elves so much, perhaps they could have solved the problem much faster. Now they had venture further into the woods and follow them to their lair, where they no doubt would attack the moment they set foot upon it.

"Who fired the arrows?" Alistair asked quietly from beside her.

"I have a pretty good idea who." She uttered back moodily, taking a step to the edge of the river. "Come out! I know you're still out there!"

"Good senses, for a Shemlen…"

The same woman who had greeted them before stepped out of the woods, as more of the elves she commanded emerged from the trees. She walked across the shallow river, a small smirk upon her lips.

Everil met her halfway, roughly grabbing her by the front of her tunic and pulling her so close their noses touched. "What do you think you're doing here!"

The elf's smirk widened. "You need not do any talking. Just do what our Keeper said. Besides, those things killed some of my men and turned others into monsters. They deserve to die!"

"Not your choice to make!" She snapped, shoving her into the water as the elves around them pointed their arrows at her.

Alistair took step, while Morrigan and Wynne summoned flames upon their hands.

"Take your men and leave. I will handle things from here." Everil told her, gazing down at her with her chin held high.

"These are my people dying! You are a fool if you think you can tell me what to do!"

"You say that, but you've accomplished nothing in all this time. And now that Grey Wardens are willing to help, you get in the way." Everil's eyes narrowed. "If you ask me, I think the only fool here is you."

The elf glowered stubbornly at her.

Everil turned her back on her, leaving her in the water. "Now stay out of it. You've already caused me a great deal of trouble."

With that she and the others continued walking towards the temple, leaving the elves behind.

xxxxxxx

The temple was shrouded in a strange mist, roots and vines crawling over it and nearly making it one with the forest. However, despite the vegetation's attempts at claiming it, the structure still stood regal, imposing its presence over the area and demonstrating its resilience against the passing of time.

Everil looked up at it in subtle wonderment, along with Morrigan who took a step next to her.

"This is a Tevinter structure... look at the statues." The witch told her. "Yet it has some elven features... how odd."

"Possibly built by magic. It makes me realize magic is feared to the point where we don't see the benefits." Everil said and then began walking to the door. "Shall we see what lies inside?"

"Other than a pack of angry werewolves?" Alistair offered with a dry smile.

Everil sighed. "Yes, aside from that."

She pushed the heavy stone doors open, pulling her sword as she cautiously looked inside. They entered a large chamber, with columns of white stone and a once polished stone floor that still retained some of its luster. The remains of white statues littered the place, as limbs and heads were scattered about. As they headed further in, three hallways went in three different directions. One of them was blocked by rubble; the one at the center was a long slope heading down into the temple, while the one of the left had a door slightly ajar.

Everil walked over to the door, sword still in hand. "I wonder if they're really in here."

As she approached and reached for the handle, the door slammed shut with a loud echo resonating through the hall, and as she wondered what had caused the door to close a low growl from within gave her the answer.

"And there it is..." She scowled and turned to her companions, pointing a thumb to the door behind her. "I do not think they wanted us to go in there, which means that is likely where we need to go. So it appears we must find a way around."

"This seems to be the only way." Wynne motioned for the long hallway that led deeper into the temple.

They made their way down, their footsteps the only sound echoing in the constricted space as spider webs dangled from every crevice on the low ceiling. Layers of dust coated everything in sight, making it difficult to breathe in the humid air.

"Ugh…" Everil frantically swatted at a spider web she accidentally walked into, the strands covering her face and hair while the prospect of a spider crawling on her sent chills down her spine. "This is a nightmare!"

"Calm down." Morrigan approached her with a soft chuckle, using her slender fingers to help get the web from her face. "At least this is a normal sized web. Giant spiders love abandoned places such as these. We are sure to eventually run into them."

Everil sighed, letting the witch pluck out silk from her hair. "Thank you... now I hate this place far more."

"Wait a minute. Is our mighty leader afraid of spiders?" Alistair teased with a grin.

Everil felt heat rise to her face as she avoided his gaze in embarrassment. "Not afraid! Just… disgusted."

He chuckled, finding her uncharacteristic reaction adorable.

A distant sound reached their ears, and after exchanging glances they carefully followed it. Another sound was then heard, this one from above them as dust trickled down from a crack on the ceiling.

When another one rumbled around them and the crack expanded, Everil's eyes widened. "Ooh no..."

Then another one, and this one spread further down the hall.

"Run!" Everil cried out, shoving Morrigan forward, then Alistair and Wynne. She let them run ahead of her as the roof behind them began to crumble. Soon the passage split into a T, where Morrigan and Alistair sought one way while Everil grabbed a tripping Wynne and made a dash for the other, her hound following after her.

Dust filled the air as the last rock fell and hit the ground in what remained of the passage. A series of rough laughs soon followed, as the culprits above them retreated.

They coughed as the dust made it hard to catch their breath.

Everil stood slowly as Wynne tried to sit up, having been pushed into safety by her.

"Everil! Are you guys alright!" Came Alistair's panicked voice, muffled by the wall of ruble separating the group.

Everil gave Wynne a concerned look, and Wynne nodded in reassurance. Meanwhile Magnus sat and scratched his ear, as if nothing happened.

"We're fine!" Everil replied, coughing lightly before inspecting the pile of rocks. "Are you and Morrigan all right?"

"We are, but uh... I don't think we'll be able to get through here."

Morrigan's faint voice followed his. "Thank you for stating the obvious, Alistair."

"Maker's breath. Of all the people I could be stuck with, it just had to be you!"

Everil rolled her eyes at the two and then looked over her shoulder to see an open hallway leading further in. She then returned her eyes to the wall. "We have another path we can follow. Do you two have a way out on your end?"

There was a pause.

"Yes, I see one!" Alistair called out.

Everil let out a sigh of relief. "Good. Let's hope they lead us out of here and that we can meet at the other end. Work together and try not kill each other. Got that?"

"I promise nothing." She heard Morrigan say, picturing the smirk on her face.

"All right. I will see you on the other side." Everil said and then turned around.

"Everil?"

She paused, her eyes going back to the wall upon hearing Alistair's voice. "Yes?"

"Be careful in there."

She smiled. "You too."

Everil then kept walking, leading the mage and hound down the hallway.

xxxxxxx

Alistair turned away from the pile of rocks, walking past Morrigan and to the open door at the end of the hall. She followed, her staff in hand as her eyes cautiously surveyed the area. They crossed the doorway and continued on, the hall barely illuminated by torches.

"Do you think those bastards know we're alive?" He asked quietly, ears alert for any sound other than their own footsteps.

Morrigan nodded. "They appear to be relatively intelligent, so 'tis likely they will at least place men at the exits."

"Yes, that sounds about right." He sighed.

They then continued on in awkward silence, Alistair walking a few steps ahead of her. A door soon came into view, cutting off their path. He reached out to open it, only to find it locked from the other side.

"Great," He muttered irritably, finding no other way around. "Now what?"

"Step aside."

He looked at her just in time to dodge the ball of flame she hurled his way, the fire narrowly missing him as he jumped to the side with a yelp.

"Are you crazy!" He snapped as he shot a glare at her. "Couldn't you let me move out of the way first!"

"Oh quit your whining! 'Tis open now!" She grumpily gestured to the door, the lock melting onto the floor.

Alistair faced the door while drawing his blade, grumbling something about rotten luck and evil witches before kicking it open. He drew in a breath as the pointed end of a large arrow loaded onto a ballista was suddenly facing their way, while one of the werewolves stood behind it ready to fire. He reacted in what felt like a split second, whirling around and tackling Morrigan to the ground as the projectile flew inches above them.

Her eyes widened as she found herself unexpectedly pinned down by him, his weight pressing against her. And in that moment, she realized just how muscular his body was.

A skip in her heart when their eyes briefly met snapped her back to reality, sending her into a panic.

"Get off of me!" She bit out, shoving him off.

"Ow!" He rolled off her and sat against the wall, rubbing his aching side. "I just saved your life and yet you hit me?"

"I should turn you into a pile of burning coals!" Her yellow eyes glowed dangerously.

Then another shot was heard and they both laid down again, letting it fly over them to nearly destroy the wall in the far end.

"Agh! Do whatever you want! I'm killing that bloody bastard!" Alistair pushed himself up, sword in hand before he stalked his way out the door.

He broke into a jog as the creature ran towards him, then blocked his claws with his shield and hit him with it, throwing him off balance before stabbing through his stomach. It howled then and a series of growls made him look up to the second level of the chamber, from where more wolves were pouring in.

His jaw tensed at their numbers when suddenly his sword was set aflame like a torch. He turned to Morrigan, who was just finished chanting. He gave her a grateful nod before rushing in to engage one of their enemies.

xxxxxxx

Magnus sniffed the ground ahead, now leading the two women through the narrow path of stone and dust. Cobwebs of different sizes covered every corner, making the Grey Warden increasingly nervous, something she was trying to hide behind a look of pure determination.

The older woman next to her seemed calm however, carefully eyeing their dimly lit surroundings.

They certainly hadn't talked much since Redcliffe, too busy running around for conversation. That and Wynne usually went to sleep as soon as her tent was up, seemingly too tired to stay up with the rest of them. She had to give the old mage credit, despite her obviously worn appearance she had not complained to her once.

"Do you need to rest?"

"No, I'm quite all right." Wynne gave her a sad smile. "You know... You did not have to help me back there."

"Well I couldn't just let the roof fall on you, now could I?" She grinned.

"I am an old woman... you could have left me and saved yourself. Then you would not be in this predicament."

Everil frowned at her words. "You offered to help me against the Blight. The least I can do is keep my word to your First Enchanter and make sure you remain in one piece."

"I probably shouldn't have offered. I am doing nothing but holding you back." Wynne let out a breath with eyes downcast.

"Oh come now. Do you honestly think I would've brought you along if I thought you a burden?" Everil stopped, folding her arms. "You're powerful and experienced, while the rest of us are all youngsters trying to save the world... well except for Sten. I don't even know how old he is."

Wynne laughed lightly.

Everil smiled. "I'm glad you are here with us. We need someone like you to keep us grounded."

"You are too kind," Wynne replied quietly. "Though I must say you seem to have a good grasp on things without my help."

"I try... Which is all I can do," Everil replied with a heavy sigh. She wasn't one to show her troubles to others, but somehow the old woman's warm presence made it easy for her to speak of her uncertainties.

"And that is enough, obviously. Not many could have picked up this mantle you carry in such desperate times, and continue fighting as you have." Wynne said firmly, drawing a surprised look form her. "I knew the Cousland name carried a great deal of weight in Ferelden, but now I can truly see why. Your family must be quite proud."

A saddened look crossed her eyes. Yes, she knew much was riding on her making the right choices and following the correct paths. In fact, the more they learned of Ferelden's situation, the more pressure she felt. But what she said truly helped her realize that perhaps that's how it was meant to be, that she may have been destined to be the one bearing the burden.

"Thanks." She gave her a half smile.

"Though there is something that bothers me..."

Everil looked her way. "Yes?"

"What is the relationship between you and Alistair?"

Everil paused mid step, a bewildered look upon her. No one in their party had ever asked her something this personal, about a matter she thought didn't even need explaining. The older woman however seemed to have a concerned look, as she waited patiently for a response.

Her brow furrowed as she attempted to pick the right words. "He and I have been through a lot together. He... He's very important to me."

That answer didn't seem to sit well with her, as she pinned her with a look a mother would give a misbehaving child. "You are a Grey Warden, and he is the son of a king. You should know that any romantic relationship between you two could possibly conflict with your judgment."

"I... I think you're making things sound worse than they are."

"Grey Wardens are known for their commitment to their cause, to do anything and everything to ensure humanity's survival... This to the point of personal sacrifice. And as our leader, you may be forced to make those decisions." she shook her head with a breath, a look of concern upon her aging features. "You should see the way the boy looks at you when he thinks no one is looking. It's almost too sweet for my taste. I would hate to see him suffer."

Everil wasn't sure how to respond, stunned into silence by the old woman's bluntness. She may be right, but that was up to them to figure out on their own. She knew she wanted to be with him, that the two were happy comforting each other during difficult times. And she that was what truly mattered. Especially when they could perish at any given moment.

She smiled gently at Wynne, putting her thoughts into words. "I will take your words into consideration. Thank you."

Wynne still didn't seem convinced. "I have given my advice. Do with it what you will."

Magnus whined, looking ahead into the dark corridor and drawing their attention away from the conversation. During their talk they hadn't noticed they had neared another part of the passage, where it connected to another room. It was dark ahead, with no torches to light the way.

Everil pulled out her sword, stepping closer to her hound. "What is it, boy? Is something in there?"

He snarled, growling at the dark.

She turned to Wynne. "Can you cast a fire spell for light?"

"Sure." She chanted something under her breath, drawing a flame into her hand. She approached the young woman, standing beside her and lifting her hand.

The small flame illuminated the chamber, revealing large spider webs covering the room, large bundles handing from the ceiling or attached to the walls. A screech then pierced through the silence, as the heavy steps of something large echoed around them, growling louder as it advanced towards them from the dark shadows where Wynne's light could not reach.

"That doesn't sound good..." Everil uttered nervously, taking in the webs covering every inch of the room while recalling Morrigan's earlier words. She swallowed and took a tentative step, and as she did something began to slowly show itself under Wynne's light.

Eight eyes stared back at her, mounted on a head that was connected to a body the size of a man, which was also attached to a pulsating abdomen and eight legs. Everil felt her pulse in her hears, fear gripping at her chest as two more spiders emerged from behind the first. And despite the many nightmares she endured each night since the Joining, this would be the worst one yet.

It charged first, the eight legs moving through the web covered floor with a speed she didn't think possible for a creature its size. Refusing to freeze in fear, Everil willed herself forward, slashing at it as it tried to pounce on her. She felt her sword cut through its exoskeleton, a white goo splashing out as it fell back and squirmed.

"Uugh...!" She shuddered involuntarily, a chill running up her spine, utterly revolted by the substance now covering her body.

Another one came from her left, attempting to blindside her. Magnus tackled it head first, flipping it on its back. He jumped on it and bit at its abdomen, chomping away pieces as the creature released a screech.

Everil looked away with a groan, forcing down the vile threatening to rise up at the scene.

"Blast it! Get it together!" She tightened her hold on her weapons as another spider crawled towards her. She ran to it, slashing at its legs and then bringing her sword down on its head.

Wynne cast a fire spell, sending flames across the web and setting three of the creatures on fire. She then cast another spell, setting more of them on fire as their loud cries pierced their ears.

As the flames spread, one of the spiders jumped down from the ceiling, dropping on Everil from behind while she busied herself killing another spider and knocking her onto her belly to pin her down. She let out a surprised cry then quickly rolled onto her back, dodging its fangs as they poked holes on the rock floor.

The spider grew impatient with her squirms, bringing a clawed leg down and leaving a gash between her neck and shoulder.

She cried out a curse then thrust her dagger up with her other arm, piercing through its upper section. It screeched and tried to bring down its legs again, only to be set a flame from behind. Everil kicked up with both her legs, pushing it off her as she rolled out of the way of its twitching body.

She held her bleeding shoulder as she knelt, panting for breath as she surveyed the chamber, now brightly lit by fires burning bodies around them. The arachnids were all dead, shriveled up on their backs as their cries slowly died out.

Wynne worriedly ran to her, taking a knee. "Maker, let me look at that!"

"It's not as bad as it looks." She uttered as she lowered her hand, blood soaking her blue coat. Her hound ran up to her, sniffing her bloodied hand with a whine.

"We should still stop the bleeding." The old woman's blue eyes narrowed as her gaze went up to meet hers. "Hold still, child."

Wynne's hands suddenly began to glow in a white light as they hovered over the wound. Warmth spread over her shoulder, Everil's eyes widening as she watched her muscles mend, her injury slowly closing. She had heard of healing magic, but had never seen it work this quickly. Felmeth had been the exception, but she was a legend, far more powerful than any normal mage.

Wynne's breath quickened, a bead of sweat sliding down her brow. Once done she lowered her hands, the light quickly fading.

"How did you do that?" Everil whispered while moving her arm, feeling no pain.

"Perhaps I should have told you this before..." The mage smiled sadly at the amazement in the girl's voice, stood to offer a quivering hand to her. "Something strange happened back in the Circle-"

Everil took her hand with one and used the other to push herself up to her feet.

"-I was critically injured by a demon while protecting the children. I thought I had died, but instead I felt as if someone wrapped their arms around me, preventing me from going any further."

She frowned. "What do you think it was?"

"I do not know... All I know is that I should be dead, and that it has kept me alive ever since. I think it could be a spirit of virtue, one that felt it was not yet my time. It's... keeping me alive even still." She sighed. "And I may have inadvertently obtained some of its powers... Powers I used on you just now."

"I see... Does that affect you in any way?" Everil gave her a concerned look.

Wynne paused, a small smile on her lips before she spoke. "I can feel it weakens the spirit somehow, yet it holds on. I cannot say how much longer it will remain with me, but if I can use this blessing to help you in any way, I will."

"Thank you." Everil smiled, then motioned to an open arch on the other of the chamber, stairs leading up through it. "Let's go. The sooner we are out of here, the better."

"I agree."

The two headed for the steps and climbed, followed by her hound. As they reached the door at the top distant growls were heard coming from the other side. Everil opened the door and rushed in sword in hand.

They crossed the next short hallway, the sound of howls and growls growing louder before they emerged from another arch into a large multi-level room filled with white pillars and more statues.

She looked down to the floor below to see Alistair fighting several werewolves, while Morrigan provided support by setting some of them on fire.

She put away her blades and drew her bow, pulling an arrow and aiming it at one of the enemies.

xxxxxxx

Alistair buried his sword into one of the creatures' chest, pulling it out and preparing to engage the next as an arrow hit the side of its head, dropping it instantly. Both he and Morrigan looked up to see the other Warden readying another arrow, letting it fly and hitting one more werewolf on the chest.

Upon seeing her arrive, the werewolves began to withdraw, climbing up the wall and disappearing behind the wide crack from which they came. The chamber was then silent, safe for the pleasant sound coming from the waterfall dropping from a gaping hole on the ceiling.

"I see you two managed to work together!" Everil called out with a chuckle, a relieved smile tugging at her lips.

"You could say that!" Alistair shouted back before turning to Morrigan, waving his still flaming sword. "Could you…?"

She scowled and grumpily waved her staff, dispelling the flames on his sword.

"Thank you~" He chimed, sheathing his blade before they both began to walk towards their companions.

Everil hopped down a broken set of stairs, turning to help Wynne while Magnus also jumped down. She reached up to the mage, holding her hand as she began to climb down.

Alistair paused a few steps from her, noticing the red stain on her shoulder.

He nearly didn't let her finish helping Wynne, when he suddenly stepped closer and gently turned her around, seeing more blood over the front side of her armor.

"What's this? What happened to you?" He asked worriedly, hands on her shoulders as he inspected the injury.

She gave him a puzzled look and then followed his line of vision. "Oh that... It's nothing, Wynne already took care of it with healing magic."

His stern gaze met hers. "That doesn't answer my question."

She sighed, firmly holding his stare. "We ran into the large spiders Morrigan mentioned, and one of them took me by surprise. Wynne was able to close the wound without trouble… I'm fine now."

"You've to be more careful. What if Wynne hadn't been there to help you?" He chastised quietly, a knot still upon his throat as his hands slowly dropped to his side.

"I know, I know." She bit her lip, reaching up to tug a strand of hair behind her ear. She didn't like being told off, but she had to admit he was right. "I'll make sure to watch my back next time."

His eyes softened, giving her an expectant look. "Promise?"

She smiled. "Yes, I promise."

"Good!" He grinned, the tension on his shoulders completely dissipating. "Now we can go kick some tails. So which way should we go?"

Everil turned her head, searching the area with her eyes. She quickly spotted the double doors at the far end of the room, on the other side of the waterfall.

"I guess it would be this way."

She led them across the stone bridge over the pond to the double doors, pushing them open to see another passage stretch out before them.

xxxxxxx

After what felt like hours of walking through the ruins the group finally arrived to another wide room, where vegetation had grown into the walls and water filtered through the cracks, trickling down to the floor.

A white wolf sat at the center, its blue eyes watching her every move as she and the others walked towards it.

"Welcome to my realm."

She heard a female voice echo in her head.

"Are you Witherfang?" Everil asked cautiously.

"I am." The wolf tilted its head. "And I heard you are here to kill me."

A low growl made them look towards a shaded area, glowing eyes staring back at them. Alistair reached for his sword, but stopped when Everil raised her hand up to stop him.

"No." She ignored the growls, her gaze focused on the wolf. "I only wish to talk."

"You have murdered many of my people. Why should I believe anything you say?"

"We were forced to defend ourselves," Everil said, her gaze was unwavering. "Now please, I want to avoid further conflict. If there is more to Zathrian's story, I wish to hear of it"

A pause followed as the wolf stood and began to walk to her, its body glowing as it slowly took the shape of a woman. Her jet-black hair flowed down to cover her exposed breasts, ash skin radiant under the light showing upon her.

"My lady, no!"

One of the werewolves roared, rushing towards the center, only to freeze on the spot the moment the woman's eyes turned to him.

"Swiftrunner," The Lady called out, like a mother warning her child.

It growled at the Warden, eyes narrowing with suspicion as Witherfang stepped closer to her.

Everil stood still as the woman reached out to touch her cheeks with both her hands, her pitch black eyes staring into her sky blue ones, seemingly searching for something deep within her. Her companions shifted uncomfortably behind her, but kept their hands off of their weapons, wanting to avoid further conflict.

"You speak the truth," Witherfang uttered quietly, a small smile spreading upon her beautiful features. She lowered her hands and took a step back, gesturing for the creatures to stand down."You must forgive my children. They have suffered much and are slow to trust."

"What happened between you and the Dalish?" Everil asked as her brow creased quizzically.

"It is… a tragic story." Witherfang shook her head with a saddened expression. "Hundreds of years ago, in this very forest, a group of human settlers killed Zathrian's son and raped his daughter. Overwhelmed by hate towards the culprits, he sought the help of a spirit and cursed them to wonder the woods as beasts until the end of their days."

Witherfang sighed, eyes downcast. "However, as you have seen, the curse spreads as a decease would. Any innocent traveler entering the woods could be affected."

Everil looked around the room to the creatures slowly emerging from the shadows. "You are that spirit…aren't you?"

Witherfang dipped her head.

"The curse… it is constant torture." Swiftrunner spoke, bearing his teeth. "The pain is unbearable… it burns through you, driving you mad. The only way to appease it is to release that anger upon others, further spreading the decease. If it weren't for our Lady we would be nothing but savage animals, seeking to kill anything in our path."

Everil folded her arms. "If Zathrian knows this, then why has he not stopped it? Why has he allowed it to continue and spread to his own people?"

"He has to die for the curse to be lifted. That's why." Swiftrunned bit out.

She turned her eyes to Witherfang. "Is this true?"

"The curse is tied to his life-force. As long as it exists, so will he. But I do not believe that is the only reason... his hatred for those who wronged him runs deep, and he has lived with it for centuries. I imagine it has become part of him."

"Is this why you have begun attacking his people?" She frowned. "To force him into lifting it?"

"In part," Witherfang replied quietly, then her features darkened. "Each time the dalish entered the forest we tried to approach Zathrian and begged him to lift the curse. And each time we were ignored. We shall no longer be denied."

Everil's hands closed into fists, anger quickly rising at the Keeper's selfish decision. "What do you need me to do?"

Witherfang's eyes widened a fraction, surprised at her response. "Perhaps… if you bring him to me, I can convince him to let go."

"There is no need for you to seek me out, Warden."

They all turned towards the source of the voice as Zathrian stepped into the chamber, a tired look in his eye. "Mithra told me of your plan to talk to the creatures. I knew then that you would learn the truth behind the curse and that nothing I said would convince you to follow through with the initial plan… So I planned to take matters into my own hands."

"How did you find us!" Swiftrunner growled at him.

"The spirit and I share a connection, of course I could find my way to her. However, the Grey Wardens served as a good distraction to allow me into your lair."

Alistair glared at him. "Bastard… you were using us all along."

Zathrian avoided his gaze, his hold on his staff tightening.

Everil's eyes narrowed. "So what now? Do you intend to kill Witherfang? Are you going to let this continue despite what your people are going through?"

"I..."

"Zathrian..." Witherfang began to walk towards him, a pleading look in her eyes. "Please, they don't deserve this fate. Those who wronged you are long dead, and now others are suffering. You have lived a long life... Let them live theirs."

"No." Zathrian's eyes hardened. "I won't let this end. Their defendants will pay just as well for what they did to my children!"

"Fool..." Morrigan muttered.

Suddenly magic surged from him as he summoned more spirits, two trees in the room coming to life as they began to move.

Everil scowled, stepping between Witherfang and the mage. "You and your people step back. We shall handle this."

The spirit nodded, then quickly transformed back into a wolf, wrapping herself and those around her in a protective barrier.

"You will pay dearly for getting in my way, Warden," Zathrian muttered, commanding the trees to attack them.

Everil dodged a branch, letting it hit the ground beside her before slashing it off only for it to grow back at an unnatural speed.

Morrigan cast a wave of flames, wrapping the tree in fire, only of the magic to be dispelled by the sorcerer. She clicked her tongue. "You must attack him directly! You will not be able to rid yourself of the trees otherwise!"

"I'll take the tree to the right while your hound takes the other! You can focus on Zathrian then!" Alistair told Everil, to which she replied with a firm nod.

The three then charged forth as the possessed trees moved to stand by Zathrian in an attempt to protect him, growling loudly as they brought down their long branches.

Alistair ducked and slashed upwards, cutting off a limb before slashing off another branch, trying to keep the creature busy. Magnus latched on to the other tree, biting off chunks as Everil ran between them, dodging the three roots breaking up from the ground as they tried to trap her.

She closed in on Zathrian, the mage quickly blocking her blades with his staff.

"This is not your battle, Warden! Leave now!" Zathrian bit out, pushing against her to then shoot a ball of fire at her. She avoided it, then struck at him again, her dagger cutting into his staff.

"I'm making this my battle!" She retorted, slashing again, then again, forcing the elf back with each hit.

Zathrian then stumbled, and she took the opportunity, kicking his stomach and knocking him into his back. She was instantly on him, her sword pointed at his neck.

"Dispel the trees. Now." She uttered threateningly.

He glared up at her silently, then a moment later the trees stopped moving. And just like that the battle was over.

"Fine... you have won," The elf muttered, panting heavily. "I... I can't take this anymore."

"Then undo the curse or I'll force you to," Everil demanded, pressing the tip of her sword to his throat.

"I... I have endured for so long." Zathrian let out a long, drawn out breath. "You're right... Enough is enough."

She slowly lowered her weapon, allowing him stand.

Whitherfang then returned to her female form, an expectant look in her eyes. "Does that mean you will do it?"

He nodded slowly. "I... I am ready."

He then turned to Everil, his guilty eyes upon her. "Talk to my successor when this is over... She will lend you the aid you seek against the Blight. Thank you for risking so much for my people."

Witherfang extended her hand, taking his and guiding him to the center of the chamber.

"My lady...!" Swiftrunner took a step to her, a confused look upon his canine features.

"Good bye... Everyone." She smiled as her body began to glow. Zathrian then collapsed, as the spirit slowly vanished before them.

Everil and the others watched in amazement as the werewolves were turned back to normal, their bodies shrinking down to human forms. The women cried with joy, some reaching up to their lovers, finally able to see their real faces.

She turned to her companions, tilting her head towards the open door to the outside. There was nothing else left to be done. They would collect the help of the elves and continue on their way.

xxxxxxx

"Here you go. Just like new!" The elven woman handed her the repaired coat, a proud grin on her face.

Everil took it gratefully, eyeing the mended armor with a pleased smile. All traces of blood were also washed away, the fabric now back to its original blue. They had returned to the village to discuss the treaty with the new keeper, but by the time they arrived the sun had nearly set. Everil then decided it be best to spend the night in the village and restock on supplies before heading back out again, while the elves were more than eager to welcome their saviors.

She handed the woman a few silvers, then turned to Leliana, who was currently staring at a stone necklace with shimmering eyes.

"I think that would look good on you," Everil complemented with a smile.

The nun turned to her, taking the necklace in her hands and placing it against the Warden's chest. "I was actually thinking it would look good with the dress."

Everil's brows went up as she watched Leliana match the piece of jewelry to her clothes. She had just been forced to change into a simple, white wool dress while her armor was being repaired, an outfit also handpicked by Leliana herself.

Everil gave her a helpless look as the other woman slid the jade necklace over her head. "Leliana... I have to put my armor back on now."

"Aww! But you look so beautiful like this!" Leliana said as she chuckled, her innocent smile turning into a mischievous grin. "Imagine Alistair's face when he sees you."

Everil felt heat rise up to her cheeks, the light of the torch next to her revealing her blush. "Uh...You really think he would like it?"

"Of course! He may even pounce on you." She giggled.

"Oh please..." Everil replied with a soft laugh and bashfully looked away this time, carrying the armor in her arms as she began to walk away from the shop.

Leliana quickly paid for the jewelry and followed the Warden, catching up to her as they walked up the hill towards the large bonfire in the middle of the Dalish camp. The distant sound of elven music accompanied by laughter filled the air, while the people celebrated ridding themselves of the deadly curse.

"That outfit suits you too," Everil told the redhead, admiring the soft lilac of her dress.

"Well thank you. You know, I talked about going shopping with you before, but I never thought it would end up happening in a Dalish camp." She chuckled. "I suppose they have to trade with humans from time to time."

"I don't know if this would be considered shopping, but I can see what you mean. I'm pleased to see they've warmed up to us."

Leliana looked to the ground with a disappointed pout, tugging her hair behind her ear. "It's quite a shame I could not convince Morrigan to come with us. She seems so obsessed over that book she carries around with her."

"It's all right." Everil let out another chuckle. "Besides, I really just wanted to have my armor fixed. The outfit ended up being a bonus."

Leliana clasped her hands behind her back with a proud smile. "I aim to please."

They approached her tent, where she put away her armor. It had been a while since she last wore anything other than the Grey Warden uniform, so she might as well enjoy the occasion. Leliana gave her a satisfied smile upon seeing she had opted to keep the dress, and then they continued on towards the bonfire, where the elves and the rest of their companions were gathered.

The musicians played flutes and a lute in a cheerful yet archaic combination. A melody that melded with their natural surroundings. Some danced while others merely sat by the fire, eating fruits and drinking elven wine as they spoke and made their toasts.

Zevran laughed in a corner, sitting cross-legged on the ground, a pint of wine in hand while chatting and flirting with two elven ladies. Though he seemed to be holding back, a slightly awkward smile on his face. Sten and Magnus sat next to each other, staring into the flames as Sten absently petted the dog. Morrigan was reading her book away from the crowd, sitting against a nearby tree just close enough to the fire for light. Wynne spoke cheerfully with the elder elves of the tribe, standing in a group as they adorned her snowy white hair with flowers.

Everil looked around the area for the missing party member, spotting him some distance from the fire. He had taken a seat on a fallen tree trunk, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched the flickering flames in silent contemplation.

She felt someone's hand gently push her forward.

"Go," Leliana said with an encouraging grin.

"Uhm…all right. I will see you later then," Everil replied softly and began to walk towards her fellow Warden. Leliana watched her go with a gentle smile tugging at her lips.

Everil approached him carefully, but he didn't notice her presence, something she found a little troubling. "A coin for your thoughts?"

Upon hearing her voice he craned his head to look at her, his eyes trailing up her body to finally meet her gaze. She saw him swallow as he slowly leaned up, her appearance visibly taking him by surprise.

Her natural shape was often mostly hidden behind the bulkiness of the chest plate and the thick, hard leather of her armor. But now the much thinner fabric of her outfit was firm in just the right places, accentuating her perfectly rounded breasts and the tempting curves of her hourglass figure.

"Maker…" He cleared his throat, his pulse quickening. "Uh… that looks good on you."

"Thank you…" Everil reached up to tug her hair behind her ear as she took a seat next to him. She then clasped her hands over her lap as she gave him a concerned look. "Are you… all right?"

His eyes wandered to her chest, the wide off shoulder cut of the dress allowing him to see her cleavage. The sight quickly reminded him of how much he wanted to touch her skin.

"Alistair?"

"Huh…?"

She chuckled softly. "I asked you if you were all right, but you're obviously feeling well enough to shamelessly gawk at my chest."

He slammed his mouth shut and forced his eyes away from her, heat rising to his ears while he attempted to regain his mental functions. "Oh! Uh sorry... I was… just thinking."

"I saw that." She smiled. "What were you thinking about?"

He let out a breath as his shoulders slumped, eyes gazing down to the dirt. "About all the people dying out there while we waste valuable time running around in some elven ruins."

Everil turned her head to stare at the elves dancing merrily in a circle a few steps from them. "I don't think it was a waste of time. We ended up helping these people and gained another ally in the process."

He frowned. "I know, but if he had just been honest…"

"We can only save those we can," Everil uttered sadly admiring the twisting flames. "At least what we're doing now will end up saving more lives in the end. We just have to keep fighting so that those who perish don't die in vain."

"I suppose you're right," He quietly said, reaching out to take her hand in his and giving it a squeeze. "So... We got the elves onboard. What's next?"

As the words left his mouth the music picked up, growing a little merrier. Some elven couples stood and began to dance, locking arms and circling each other with a skip as they laughed.

Everil smiled, her gleaming eyes turning to him. "How about we think about that later and just enjoy the music for now?" She rose, her hand now holding his as she gently tugged on his arm.

His eyes grew wide, his expression closely resembling that of a frightened deer. "W-wait! I don't think that's a good idea."

She pouted. "Why? We've earned at least a little fun."

"Trust me. There is nothing fun about me dancing." He smiled nervously. "It's rather tragic, actually."

"Oh I'm sure you're not as bad as you think." She leaned over and reached down for his other hand, giving him a closer view of her cleavage.

Needless to say he was numb enough to oblige after that.

He let her drag him out to the bonfire, where the elves made way for the two to join in. He stopped when she did, awkwardly waiting for her to lead. She linked her arm with his and used her other hand to hold up her long skirt. She skipped in the same fashion the elves had been, while Alistair anxiously tried to keep up the pace. To his surprised he was soon beginning to have fun, the nerves slowly fading as they followed the melody.

Neither of them was the best dancer in the large group, but their warm laughter was enough to make the Dalish form a circle around them, clapping their hands to the tune as the musicians continued to play their flutes. For the first time since Ostagar they were genuinely laughing, casting aside the weight of their journey for just a moment while enjoying the company of total strangers. Strangers who were also willing to give up their lives to protect those they cared about against the darkspawn and their tainted god.

While behind the laughing crowd, still sitting by herself, Morrigan gripped Flemeth's grimoire with shaking hands, her horrified eyes glued to the pages as she discovered one of her mother's darkest secrets.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter XI

A blond elven woman made her way through the castle, a scroll safely hidden within the bundle of fresh linen she carried. She approached one of the doors, knocking gently on the thick wood and waiting patiently for a response. It opened to reveal another elf, one dressed better than herself, with black hair tied in a bun.

"For her Majesty, Lady Erlina," She uttered as she handed the elf the bundled fabric.

"Good work. Go on to the kitchens and remember what I said. Not a word to anyone," Erlina uttered, receiving a brief bow from the servant before closing the door.

"Is that what I was expecting, Erlina?" She heard from behind her and turned to walk towards the owner of the voice.

Queen Anora rose from her bath, unashamed to show her delicate, naked body to her personal maid. The subtle scent of roses filled the room, emanating in gentle waves from the warm water within the porcelain tub.

"Yes, your Majesty." Erlina laid the sheets upon her bed, then took the velvet robe that lay next to it. She brought it to the queen, holding it up for Anora to slide her arms into the sleeves. She helped pick up her long blond hair, gently pulling it out of the robe to allow it to cascade freely down her back. Erlina then stepped around her, securing the sash around her waist before walking to the sheets and drawing the scroll. Erlina bowed and handed it over to the queen, who gently took it and let it unroll in her hand with a somber look.

Anora's blue eyes scanned the document, going over each word as her expression hardened in reaction to the news therein. She took a step towards the chair by the window, slowly lowering herself to sit upon it, eyes still focused on the paper.

"Is something wrong, your Highness?" The elf clasped her hands together with a troubled gaze.

"The situation in Ferelden is... Worse than I expected." Anora slowly lowered the scroll, a soft breath escaping her lips. "The Blight has spread to The Hinterlands and much of the farmland has been destroyed by the taint. And Crestwood, further north... darkspawn have flooded the town, killing nearly everyone."

"North? I thought the Blight was coming from the south. Has it spread that far?"

"By what Cailan said, darkspawn can come from anywhere underground. No place is safe during a Blight." Her hand slowly crumpled the parchment. "There were hundreds in that village, and they had been taking in hundreds more refugees—likely survivors seeking shelter in the northern lands." She swallowed the knot in her throat, anger slowly rising within her. "My people are dying—" She stood and slammed the paper onto the table next to her. "—And my Father has done nothing to stop it!"

"Your Highness..." Erlina took a tentative step towards her. "What of the Grey Wardens? Are they truly as bad as others say they are?"

The queen seemed conflicted by the mention of the order, her eyes wavering as she cast them upon the elf. "Father told me that, by his reports, there may only be two left. And he has ordered their execution, under claims that they murdered my husband." She folded her arms, looking out the window at the gardens below. "But truth or not... I wonder if they can be trusted."

"I heard one killed some of Teyrn Howe's men at The Pearl some days ago. Beheaded one of them even," The elf told her, nervously fidgeting with her fingers.

Anora turned curious eyes towards her. "Wait... what were the Grey Wardens doing in Denerim?"

Erlina shook her head. "No one knows... When we asked the inn keeper, he said he didn't realize who they were until they left. They only stayed a single night."

"Whatever it was, it must have been important enough to risk discovery and capture. Which is probably why they were forced to kill Howe's soldiers." After a short pause, Anora cast a firm look towards her. "I wish to know what they were after. Send our spies to seek out this information, but make sure my Father does not learn of it."

"Yes, your Majesty." Erlina bowed her head, retreating out of the room to do her bidding.

Anora leaned her head against the window, gazing upon to the peaceful view of her rose garden. With her Father acting ruler, there was nothing she could do for her country. All the decisions were for the man to make, and although she had been the one pulling Cailan's strings before his passing, her Father was an entirely different animal. He would listen to no one but himself.

"Cailan... you may have been a fool, but you were right about something," She muttered with a troubled frown. "Ferelden needs help. And if not from Orleis, then from the Maker himself."

xxxxxxx

The next morning the village was bustling with activity as the dalish returned to their daily duties. The air was fresh with the moisture of dew, together with the scent of pine and dirt. The gentle sound of galloping halla could be heard, along with idle conversations and morning greetings as the elves passed each other by.

Despite the problems they faced the day before, the morning carried a peaceful feeling she hadn't experienced in what seemed like forever. A shame it had to end so quickly.

Magnus watched her while lying down as Everil fastened one of the leather straps on her armor, adjusting the metal chest plate over her chest. She then took a knee, reaching down to finish up her boot. Footsteps near her tent made her glance towards it to see someone's silhouette behind the entrance.

"Warden Everil?" She heard Wynne's familiar voice call to her.

"You may come in," She replied, switching legs to work on her other boot.

The flap opened and the old mage stepped in, letting it close behind her. "I see your injury is not bothering you. I'm glad."

"You did a great job in the ruins. I don't even feel it," Everil said with a smile and stood. "Is there something you needed to talk about before we head out?"

Wynne anxiously glanced down at her feet. "I... I came to apologize to you."

"Apologize?" She echoed, her brows shooting up. "Apologize for what?"

The mage gave her a troubled look. "For speaking that nonsense about you and Alistair. You two looked so happy last night... I felt terrible about what I said."

Everil placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "No need to apologize. You were only looking out for us."

Wynne's shoulders slightly relaxed. "I should know being bound to duty does not mean you mustn't enjoy your time together. My old age can sometimes make me forget such things... I hope you two can remain together after this, if we survive."

Everil offered her a gentle smile. "One step at a time, right?"

"Of course." Wynne chuckled.

"Come on. We should go collect the others," Everil said as she gestured for the entrance.

They walked out together, her hound following behind them as they headed towards the middle of their camp, where Lanaya and Alistair were taking.

"Here she comes." Alistair turned to her with a smile. "I was just thanking the Keeper for letting us spend the night here."

"And you are welcome to visit any time you wish," Lanaya added with a soft gaze. "Your assistance in our time of need will always be remembered, Grey Wardens. Know that you may call upon us when our help is needed against the Blight."

"Our thanks," Everil replied with a subtle nod.

The Keeper then retreated to her duties while Everil summoned her other companions, who gathered before her. "All right, we should plan our next destination," She said, folding her arms. "We still have to use the treaty with the Dwarves. It will be a long journey from here, so we must stop somewhere in between to replenish any supplies and purchase what we need. Thoughts?"

"Orzammar is high in the Frostback Mountains, so it'll be pretty cold. Redcliffe's smithy may be able to help us with some cold weather armor," Alistair offered.

"My, but the toadstool has a brain in that head of his after all," Morrigan commented dryly, standing with arms crossed a distance from the group.

"At any rate..." Alistair sent her a brief glare as he spoke. "I'm sure Bann Teagan and the Arlessa will want to know what we've learned about the Urn of Sacred Ashes... that we're close to saving Arl Eamon."

"Woah… That sounds like some influential people," Zevran uttered in quiet amusement. "No wonder that Teyrn Loghain wants you dead."

"That is another matter..." Leliana added with a troubled frown. "We should probably avoid Denerim until things have calmed down. I'm sure that after your display at The Pearl the townsfolk will leave us alone, but the soldiers might not."

"You're right," Alistair responded.

"Redcliffe is on the way..." Everil traced the route in her head as she tapped her chin with a finger. She then looked up and nodded. "All right, it sounds like we have a plan. We shall head to Redcliffe."

With that the group tore down their camp, mounting their bags on their horses. Once ready they made their way out of the forest, slowly leaving the tall, lush pine trees behind and venturing back into the Fereldan plains. Everil led them west from there, traveling through the King's Highway. They took the road that headed southwest this time, trying to take the shorter route to their destination.

They only needed to use the last treaty to have most of the resources they needed to challenge the archdemon and its darkspawn. But she couldn't imagine what it would be like to fight a dragon, much less one harnessing the power of a relentless army.

There were very few dragons in Ferelden, after having been hunted to near extinction by warriors of old. Therefore she or her family had never seen one in person, only read about them in books. The creatures were said to be great, mighty beasts capable of single handedly destroying a city. All dragons could also use elements such as fire and electricity, making them more destructive and so powerful the Tevinter Imperium worship them as gods.

Her wandering mind made her hope the tales and legends were exaggerated, if only just a little. Or just enough to allow them to win.

They were halfway to Redcliffe when the sun began to set, and the group was forced to seek out a place to camp. They veered off the main road and began to search.

"You seem awfully uncomfortable, Sten. What's the matter?" Leliana looked up at the qunari, who was riding his horse some distance next to her.

"The forest was refreshing, now everything smells of wet dog again," He said dryly, curling his nose. "I do not like that smell."

Magnus whined from his spot behind Everil, lying upon her horse's rump.

"But that's the best part of Ferelden!" Alistair said with a proud grin, traveling on the other side of the former sister. "It gives us character."

"How so?" Sten asked as he turned stoic eyes to him.

"Our mabari hounds are known and feared for their might in battle. They're a symbol of our strength and resilience as a country. That's why we love our dogs so much." Alistair repeated the same words Arl Eamon once told him, recalling all the decorations at the castle, and how he often asked about them as a child. He smiled inwardly, continuing the conversation. "I mean, you have seen our little, four-legged companion fight, right? I think he's a good example."

"I have." Sten replied as he glanced to the dog.

Leliana giggled, tenderly gazing at the dog. "I wouldn't exactly call him little, but Magnus is strong."

Magnus responded with a proud bark.

"And smart too!" Alistair added with a grin.

"Unlike some people," Morrigan said moodily.

The three turned to her, and Alistair raised a brow at her as he spoke in an irritated tone. "Is it just me or have you been bitchier than normal?"

Morrigan scoffed. "I tire of listening to your moronic voices. Yours especially."

He scowled. "If you hate it here so much then why don't you just leave? I'm sure none of us would complain."

"That's not true. I don't—" Leliana tried to intervene.

"But it is," Alistair cut her off, hard eyes still upon the witch. "All she ever does is insult people. And she's always off on her own, acting all high and mighty, looking at us like we're a bunch of idiots."

Morrigan cast a dark look upon him. "'Tis only you I regard that way, Alistair. For all I see is a weak, pathetic, little man who relies on everyone else because he is too much a coward to make his own decisions."

His jaw tensed, anger quickly rising at her words. "And all I see is a heartless shrew who's never known what it's like to have real friends. Someone who pretends not to need them, but secretly wants them. A shame you'll likely end up a crazy, lonely hag. Just like your mother."

That made Morrigan's eyes widen, and even he felt he went a bit too far. She halted her horse and climbed off, stalking off towards the woods with her hands set aflame.

Alistair breathed out through his nose as he watched her disappear behind the foliage. He felt eyes on him and craned his head to the others, Leliana and Wynne giving him shocked looks while Zevran snickered.

"What?" Alistair asked and turned away stubbornly. "I've had to deal with her longer than you guys have."

"I guess we'll be camping here." Everil uttered and shook her head with a breath of her own. She dismounted her horse, her hound swiftly jumping off.

"What about Morrigan?" Leliana asked worriedly as she too dismounted.

Everil petted her horse's snout, then let go of the reigns, allowing it to graze. "I shall go talk to her."

As the others began putting their camp together, she followed the same path Morrigan had taken. She did notice the woman had been particularly snippy since before they left the Brecilian Forest, but she thought perhaps it was just one of those days when she and Alistair couldn't stand each other. In this case however, there was something off about her behavior.

When she found Morrigan she was casting spells upon an unfortunate tree stump that just so happened to be in her path. She set it on fire, then froze it solid, locking the ashes in ice. Feeling Everil's presence she lowered her arms, her shoulders rising and falling as she let out soft breaths.

"Morrigan?" Everil took a tentative step forward.

"I know not what you see in that man," She uttered irritably, her hands closing into fists. "He is infuriating."

"I know you two don't get along, but in this instance, I have a feeling Alistair is not the reason you're upset," Everil replied, approaching her.

Morrigan remained silent for a moment, her yellow eyes still sharp as they stared off into the distance. Her fists then slowly opened, her gaze shifting down to the grass as she quietly spoke. "Do you remember the tales I told you of my mother?"

Everil nodded. "Of course I do."

"Those legends oft' spoke of many witches, not just the one."

"Yes, I recall hearing about that. How Flemeth's daughters would drag away misbehaving children to their doom." Everil crossed her arms, now standing next to her.

"Part of it... Is true."

She turned her eyes to the mage, lifting a brow. "Which part?"

Morrigan let out a drawn out breath, a disturbed look settling upon her beautiful features. "Flemeth has had many daughters, but 'tis not as most think. They..."

"Morrigan, what is it?" She reached up to place a hand on her shoulder before the witch took a step away from her.

"They are all Flemeth." She breathed out, fear in her eyes.

"What?" Everil's grew wide.

"Her grimoire explained the process in great detail." Morrigan drew in a quivering breath. "Each time her body withers, Flemeth has a daughter. She raises the girl, nurturing her magical powers until... Until her body is... Ready for possession."

Everil couldn't believe what she was hearing. "But... if that's the case, then why risk your life by sending you with us?"

"I cannot say... Perhaps she thought this journey would make me more powerful." Morrigan shook her head. "It matters not. I do not intend to sit idly by while my mother plots to take over my body."

"What will you do?" Everil asked nervously.

"There is... No other option. If I am to live, then Flemeth needs to die. But I cannot get close to her... The moment I do so, she may try to possess my body. However..." She bit her lip, sadness crossing her features. "You... you might be able to help me."

The Warden's brow furrowed. She still couldn't understand why a mother would do such a thing to her daughter. But this was Flemeth, a fearsome woman who would likely put her own survival ahead of anyone else's.

Everil hid her nerves as she asked the question. "What do you need me to do?"

"You will have to slay her yourself."

Everil swallowed at her answer. That was certainly easier said than done. By all the legends circling her companion's mother, many had tried to slay her before, only to fall under the creature's incredible power. And although most thought of legends as mere tales, if there was anything this journey had taught her, it was that there was always some truth to them. But Morrigan was asking for her help, something she never did before. She couldn't just leave her to handle such dire situation on her own, especially not after all she did to help them since they met, willingly or not.

Everil steeled her resolve. "Very well. I will help you. How do you suggest we handle it?"

Morrigan seemed visibly relieved at her response. "Once we arrive to Redcliffe, I will remain in the village. You and the others can then head south to the Wilds and engage her there. The further I am from the fight, the better it shall be. I also would like for you to obtain her true grimoire. She has it locked in a chest within our hut."

"Why do you need the book?"

"Even if you slay Flemeth there is a possibility she may return. If I have her grimoire I will be able to use it to keep her from finding me. And…" She sighed. "If she were to find me, I could use it to at least make an attempt at surviving her ire."

Everil gave a firm nod. "Then that's what we shall do. I will not let Flemeth possess you. I promise."

Morrigan's usually cold eyes softened. She half expected a rejection, as she knew her mother would be a dangerous adversary. That and she knew the Wardens were Ferelden's only hope, if they died then they would all likely fall to the Blight. "I thank you..." She uttered. "I truly do."

Everil felt a smile tug at her lips. "Hey... What are friends for?"

Morrigan returned her smile, feeling both relief and a new found appreciation for the girl. She remembered Alistair's earlier words. And despite hating to admit the man was right, she knew she was not the most inviting person. She hated wasting time on things that would bring her no benefit. Things that were fragile and inconsequential, as most relationships were. Yet for this girl, she was willing to make an exception.

xxxxxxx

The sun had yet to rise, but upon her orders they were packing up. It was after she finished putting away her things that Everil called him to the edge of the camp to discuss the plan.

"Slay Flemeth? Is that even possible?" Alistair asked in astonishment, not quite believing what he was hearing.

Everil folded her arms with a firm gaze. "Morrigan once told me it was. She said Flemeth's weakness was her heart."

"If you can even get to it. The Witch of the Wilds is no joke, Everil." He anxiously scratched the back of head. "Is there no other way to resolve this? Maybe talk to her instead?"

Everil tilted her head and chuckled. "What do you think she will say? 'All right, lads. Since you asked so nicely, I shall let that one go. I will simply get pregnant again and hope the next one will not mind. Say, would you mind terribly if your fellow Warden spent the night with me tonight?'"

"Ugh..." Alistair's nose curled up in disgust. "Was that last part really necessary? As if I don't have enough nightmares as it is."

"The point is we don't have much of a choice here." She gave him a half smile. "We can't just leave Morrigan alone in this."

"Why not?"

Her smile faded into an annoyed look. "Alistair—"

"Yes, yes… I know. I understand she's one of us… as much as it pains me to say it," He muttered with distaste. "At any rate, if we're doing this, we'll have to prepare well. Especially if we want to come out alive and go back to our original impossible task."

"Oh we'll be fine. We've become quite good at conquering impossible tasks," She said and grinned playfully, hiding how nervous she truly was as she leaned against a nearby tree.

"Or we've just been fortunate." He walked up to her, resting his forearm above her head and bringing hand up to cup her cheek. "We should probably not test our luck so much..."

She leaned into his touch with a smile. "I know…"

He leaned down to kiss her, pausing inches from her lips when footsteps interrupted them.

"Perhaps a room at the next town would be beneficial for the both of you," Zevran said with a grin, stopping a few feet from them with arms crossed.

"What do you want?" Alistair asked moodily, stepping away from Everil to face the elf.

"Only to let you know that we are up and ready to move." Zevran sent an impish grin towards him. "As soon as you two are done drooling over each other, that is."

Everil rolled her eyes and began her trek back to camp, walking past him. "Thank you, Zevran."

"Of course, my lady." He bowed his head, his eyes following her, admiring the swell of her rear end.

Alistair sent him a warning glare as he passed him by, one Zevran brushed off with a playful snicker.

Oh how he loved ruffling his feathers.

The group set off again that morning, traveling further west through the deserted highway on their way to Redcliffe. The hours went by as they trailed up and down the hills, with Everil noticing how much colder the air felt with every fleeting breeze. She looked on towards the south, where dark clouds ominously gathered, the distant rumbling of thunder reaching her ears. She could feel the horde was still miles away, the taint pulling on her blood like a magnet. The itch in her head, scraping at her skull like blades over stone, was still something she was not used to. Perhaps she would never grow accustomed to it in however many years she had left.

It was a stranger feeling even, knowing you were slowly dying. She once thought she would end up married off to some lord, have his children and carry on his name, only to die of old age later on. That was usually the fate of a noblewoman about her age. She was eighteen and still unmarried, while most of the girls she once knew had been married off at fifteen.

She had been fortunate enough to have parents who were either willing to listen or tired enough to deal with her rebellious attitude. Regardless of her fortune, never did it cross her mind that she would end up a Grey Warden.

She glanced towards Alistair, who was absently looking in the same direction she was. The two of them had experienced so much together that she couldn't imagine not having him with her throughout their journey. Her heart fluttered as she watched him ride his horse, completely oblivious to her admiring gaze.

"Is that the Blight?"

She craned her head to Zevran, who was looking on towards the dark clouds.

"Yes. Scary isn't it?" She quietly replied.

"It's so close… how long will it take for it to reach Redcliffe?" Wynne asked from behind Leliana, as the two shared a horse, her brow furrowing worriedly.

"I don't know for certain, but we may still have time," Alistair replied, his tone doubtful.

As the sun began to set they reached a forested area, the high branches shrouding the road in dark shadows, surrounded by red and yellow light. Everil halted her horse suddenly, reaching up to her head as the scratching intensified, making her squint her eyes.

Before she could cry it out, Alistair did. "They're here!"

Just as the words left him, darkspawn emerged from the foliage, rushing at them with blades raised high.

Everil kicked one as she slid off her horse, preventing it from stabbing her steed. She drew her weapons with a set jaw, rushing forth to engage the next one. The others did the same, defending their horses as the large group of monsters surrounded them.

She clicked her tongue, smacking her horse' behind and forcing it into a run while the other animals followed.

Alistair blocked a hurlock's blade and brought his shield around to hit it, pushing it off him to run it through.

Wynne summoned an ice spell, freezing every creature in its path while Sten and Magnus destroyed each one.

Zevran dodged a dagger and shifted on his feet, swinging his daggers around to decapitate a genlock. Meanwhile, Leliana fired an arrow at another that was edging towards him.

Morrigan stood at a distance, summoning a fire spell that enveloped a small group of darkspawn as they appeared from the woods. Their screeches reached her ears as the flames slowly died down, leaving nothing but scattering ashes behind. As she turned to another group a figure in the distance caught her attention, her eyes instantly growing wide. She froze in place, watching as the figure approached their battleground, amber eyes locked with her own.

"Mother…" She breathed in fear.

A great wave of flames cut through it all, instantly incinerating the remaining darkspawn while somehow missing the party. Everil watched their enemy disintegrate in stunned silence, standing in awe at the immense power of the spell as she slowly turned her attention to the new arrival.

"Well, well… What have we here?" Flemeth uttered darkly, her gaze fixed upon them as she stepped closer. "Morrigan and her little helpers, now scheming to end this old woman's life."

Morrigan took a step back. "H-how did you…?"

The Witch of the Wilds stopped a short distance from them, her amber eyes now focusing upon her offspring as she spoke. "I haven't lived this long without the ability to know what goes on out of the Wilds, girl. You should know this."

Leliana edged towards Alistair. "What's happening?"

He turned his eyes to the others. "That's Flemeth, Morrigan's mother. That should tell you enough."

The nun's eyes grew wide. "Flemeth…? The Flemeth?"

He nodded.

"Maker…" Wynne murmured, while Sten and Zevran tensed up.

Everil walked up to Morrigan, using her body to shield her from the witch's view. "Why have you come?"

Morrigan looked at the back of the Warden's head with surprise, while at the same time fear gripped at her chest. That she was trying to shield her was commendable, but she knew that alone wouldn't stop Flemeth from getting to her. And Everil's tight grip on her sword told her she knew this too.

"Does a mother need a reason to visit her child?" Flemeth said and cackled with myrth.

"Answer the question!" Everil demanded, her eyes narrowed at the witch as her companions gathered behind her.

"Oh? You have grown quite a bit since last I saw you, child. Impressive." Flemeth's smirk slowly vanished into a chilled expression, her gaze meeting hers. "I came to offer a bargain: Do not fight me, and I will swear to leave Morrigan be until the Blight has been defeated. Fight me, and you all die… Simple, is it not?"

"To you, perhaps…" Morrigan uttered with distaste.

The old witch glanced at her daughter over Everil's shoulder, then returned cold eyes to the Warden. "If you die, the Blight will likely engulf all of Ferelden, which is also an inconvenience to me. So I would prefer you choose wisely. After all, this is between Morrigan and me. It does not concern you."

Morrigan scowled, nervously looking at the back of Everil's head as she waited for her decision.

It didn't take long.

"This does concern me. Morrigan is my friend and I shan't allow you to threaten her." Everil replied without hesitation.

Flemeth's eyes widened, and after a moment of stunned silence she began to laugh. "Friend? How blind you are… Morrigan is using you. She only sees you as a tool she can manipulate to get her way. I know this because I taught her so."

"You placed her in my hands so that I may use her against the Blight, and I have done so. If she needs me now then I consider it a fair-trade," Everil countered with her head held high. "Nothing you say will change my mind. I won't let you have her."

Morrigan watched the exchange with a mixture of shock and guilt. It was true she had once thought this way of her, but now she felt different. This woman was willing to risk it all to help her, something no one had ever done for her. And to her surprise, everyone in the group seemed to think the same way, as they drew their weapons.

"Then you have made your choice," Flemeth said, her body slowly becoming engulfed in flames. "Such a shame..."

Everil extended her arm, instructing the others to move back as they watched the witch's body begin to morph.

"No… that form," Morrigan muttered fearfully, taking several steps back along with the Warden, who continued to use her body to shield her.

Flemeth's body twisted, her face morphing into a reptilian head as red scales spread through her. In seconds she grew. A pair of giant wings spread behind her back as her muscles expanded. The swirling flames raged until something massive replaced the seemingly frail old woman. Smoke came out of its nostrils as it cast sharp yellow eyes upon them, a low growl resounding from deep within its throat.

"A dragon…" Alistair muttered in fear as blurred memories from Ostagar rushed back at the sight of the beast. This was the same dragon he had seen before he blacked out in that tower.

Everil's eyes narrowed, her instincts screaming at her to run, but she stood her ground while the others did the same. She quickly looked over the creature, eyes landing on its chest.

It took a step that shook the ground and began to draw in a deep breath, its neck glowing red.

She instantly knew what that meant.

"Fire!"

She grabbed Morrigan by the arm and pulled her with her as they all ran, barely avoiding the breath of fire that instantly scorched everything in its path. Everil clicked her tongue, whirling around and giving the monster another look. She needed to distract it long enough to reach its chest.

"Magnus, Sten, Zevran and Alistair! Focus on its legs! Watch the talons!" She called out from the other side of the battleground.

"Got it!" She heard Alistair call back, accompanied by a bark from her hound.

She turned to the other mage, seeing her standing near the edge of the woods. "Wynne! I want you out of this until I tell you otherwise!"

"Understood!"

"Leliana, stand back and use your arrows, aim for the chest!"

"Yes!"

Everil then cast her eyes upon Morrigan, placing her hand on her shoulder as the woman nervously looked back at her. "I want you to keep moving to Redcliffe on your own, the horses shouldn't be too far down the road."

"What?" Morrigan breathed in astonishment. "You are asking me to leave you behind?"

"I am. Now do as I say and get out of here," Everil commanded as she drew her blades and turned on her heel.

The witch swallowed uncomfortably. "But—"

"Go, Morrigan!" She snapped over her shoulder.

Morrigan took a tentative step back, nodding shakily before whirling around and running into the woods behind her.

Seeing her go, Everil returned her attention to the dragon as the others attacked its legs, drawing blood. She rushed forth, both weapons in hand as she closed the distance to the monster, which kept turning every time someone got too close to its chest. She let out a cry and thrust her blade into one of its front legs, piercing through the mass of muscle and drawing a roar from it. She then pulled her blade back, rolling to the side and dodging the claws swiping down at her.

Sten released a cry of his own, swinging his greatsword sideways to cut the backside of one of its hind legs, severing several tendons over the joint. The dragon roared and hopped up, flapping its giant wings and sending a gust of wind that knocked them over. It landed back down, forcing them to roll out of the way as it tried to stomp on them. It then took off again, this time flapping its wings harder, lifting its heavy body up as it drew in another breath.

The group struggled against the wings, the wind making it hard for them to stay on their feet. Everil looked up as its throat glowed red again.

"Incoming!" She cried out, jumping to the side as flames missed her legs by inches. The fire continued like a stream, burning the ground as they ran away from it, the flames lighting up the night sky.

An arrow hit it in the chest, making it cry out and land heavily. But it kept fighting, swiping away the next wave of arrows with its massive tail.

Panting for breath, Everil watched the men run in again, slashing at its legs once more, the beast's blood spraying over the ground. But she could tell they were getting tired, their strikes slower as the dragon kept them on the defensive, forcing them to dodge after each hit they managed to land.

She gritted her teeth. After cutting through its thick skin she knew an arrow wouldn't do. The warriors in their party would be too slow to maneuver under it, risking a hit from its front talons or a snap from its jaws. But she could get closer and use her sword.

With a determined look she broke into a run, putting away her dagger to wield her long sword with both hands. As she was nearing the dragon it turned its head, seeing her coming from the side. It sneered, turning to her and attempting to bite her with its massive maws. Everil jumped to the side and out of the way, but it followed through, tilting its head and swinging its horns. It landed a hit against her side and knocked her off her feet before her body landed hard upon the ground.

"Everil!" She heard someone call through the fuzz in her head. She groaned and shakily pushed herself up, holding her side as she tried to focus her eyes back on the dragon.

Just as she did, its front claws went up, ready to strike at her. Her eyes widened as they came down towards her and then she felt herself being tackled. She heard a grunt as she and the person holding her were sent flying to the edge of the clearing, their bodies then tumbling over the ground.

And for a moment she blacked out.

The loud roar of the dragon pierced the night, stirring her awake from her brief moment of unconsciousness. She opened her eyes with a soft groan, her head pounding as she felt a trickle of blood slide down her temple. She found herself lying on her back, someone's body pinning her down, their weight making it difficult to breathe. She turned her head to see the familiar blue of the Grey Warden armor on the person's collar, and she immediately knew whom it was.

"Alistair?" She called weakly. But she received no response, the silence causing her chest to tighten with growing concern.

"Alistair?" She called a little louder, her hands coming up to his sides. In that moment, she felt moisture under her fingers and then noticed the front of her armor also felt soaked. She brought her hand up to inspect the substance, only to see the red of blood staining her glove.

Her eyes widened and concern turned to panic as she turned him over onto his back and rolled to kneel over him. Everil drew in a breath at the sight of the torn armor and the two large gashes on his side, gaping wounds that stained his coat a deep crimson. Her worried gaze went to his face, fear gripping her heart upon seeing his eyes were closed.

"N-no… no, no, no!" She breathed out, desperately pressing her hands against his injuries in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

Another loud roar made her head whip around towards the dragon as it drew in a breath and released another fire attack, this one aimed at them. She tensed, eyes filled with a mixture of anguish and frustration. She wouldn't leave him. She couldn't.

Someone's back suddenly blocked her vision, followed by a great wall of ice that blocked the swirling fire. Morrigan gritted her teeth as she kept regenerating the ice, building new layers until the dragon's flames died down.

Everil stared at her in shock. "Morrigan…? Why are you—"

"I do not know!" Morrigan snapped as she looked down at her with a troubled frown. "I just… could not leave!"

Movement at the corner of her eye drew their attention to Wynne, who was worriedly running towards them.

The mage knelt next to Alistair, taking in the damage. "Andraste's mercy…"

"Wynne."

The old woman looked up to her upon hearing her name, seeing the urgency in Everil's eyes.

"I want you to focus on healing him!" Everil commanded firmly. "No matter what happens, stay with him!"

Wynne replied with a nod, promptly summoning her powers as she placed her wrinkled hands over his wounds.

"Morrigan." Everil stood and turned to her with steely eyes. "Can you cast that ice wall more than once?"

She nodded. "Of course."

"I need you to use it every time it shoots at me," She ordered, her earlier feelings of desperation turning into heated anger.

Morrigan nodded. "Understood."

With a determined expression, Everil began to run towards where her sword still lay upon the ground. The dragon whirled around, pushing away those still fighting with its tail before returning its piercing yellow eyes to her. She quickened her pace, watching as it prepared another fire attack. She rolled over the grass, picking up the blade and rushing forth, getting closer to the creature as it spat fire at her.

Morrigan raised a wall of ice, blocking each fireball with it as Everil continued to advance towards Flemeth. The dragon roared at the quickly approaching Grey Warden, releasing another ball of fire that was blocked by ice. This time Everil cut through what remained of her melting shield, breaking through it and crossing the distance towards the dragon's chest sword first. She cried out and thrust her blade all the way through, drawing a painful shriek from the beast.

Everil then let go of the sword and took several steps back as she watched it squirm, flames swirling around it as its shape began to slowly shrink.

Morrigan cautiously approached Everil, her gaze focused on her mother's writhing form, conflicting emotions coursing through her.

Flemeth's shape shifted back to her human self, her hands holding on to the sword still piercing her chest as she struggled to stand. The old Witch of the Wilds let out a broken cackle, her eyes upon her daughter. "You… have learned more than I expected. Well done, Morrigan."

With that she vanished into a whirlwind of fire that quickly dissipated, the sword dropping onto the ground along with something else.

Still panting for breath, Everil walked up to her blade, picking it up. "Do you think she's dead?"

"My mother is resourceful. She would have planned ahead for this." Morrigan paused as she took the other item, another book with a leafless tree. "Her true grimoire? Why would she have it with her?"

"I have to check on Alistair," Everil told her as she quickly turned around, running towards Wynne while the others gathered behind the mage, carrying minor injuries of their own.

Wynne turned worried eyes towards her as she approached, a drop of sweat sliding down her brow while the glow on her hands slowly faded.

Everil dropped on her knees beside him, resting her hand on his forehead. "How is he?"

"The wounds are closed, but there was a lot of internal damage I had to mend. He also lost a lot of blood." She sighed, her brow furrowing. "I did all I could…"

Everil's heart twisted painfully, her gaze trailing down to him as she swallowed the knot in her throat. She placed a quivering hand on his chest. "There has to be something more we can do."

"Lying out here in the cold will not help him," Wynne replied quietly, her hand upon hers in a calming gesture. "We should hurry back to Redcliffe. Perhaps the Bann can also recruit the help of a healer."

Everil nodded slowly, her eyes still upon him. "I need one of you to seek out our horses. If they were trained properly, they should still be in the area. Magnus will guide you to them."

"I'll go." Zevran offered somberly and then motioned for the dog to lead the way.

"Thank you, Zevran…" Everil murmured.

He bowed his head and then followed the hound and they hurried down the road.

xxxxxxx

A series of loud knocks woke Teagan from his slumber. He sat up with a groan and reached for his sword, sliding off the bed and walking to the door. He opened it irritably, lowering his weapon the moment his eyes landed upon one of their young soldiers. "What is it man? It's not even sunrise yet."

The soldier took a few breaths, obviously spent from running. "The Grey Wardens have returned, my lord. And one of them appears to have been seriously injured."

"What...? Hold a moment." Teagan set aside his sword and grabbed the nearest tunic, throwing it on before hurrying out of the room. "Let's go."

When he and the soldier arrived to the castle entrance, Everil and the others were just dismounting.

He jogged over to her. "Lady Everil!"

She cast tired eyes upon to him. "I apologize for the intrusion Bann Teagan. We are in desperate need of your help."

He saw the blood on her and reached for her with concern in his eyes, his hands upon her shoulders. "What happened?"

She swallowed and turned towards Zevran, who was still upon his horse, Alistair leaning heavily against his back.

"Maker..." Teagan's eyes grew wide, rushing to the unconscious young man to see his torn and bloodied armor.

The bann immediately began to bark orders to the nearest soldiers, commanding them to help carry the Grey Warden to the nearest room and urgently call upon the family healer. They carefully carried him inside, with Everil and the others following closely.

Upon arriving to the room, they laid him down over the bed, while one of the men promptly lit the fireplace at Teagan's command. He watched as Everil stood beside the bed, her unsteady hands unclamping the buckles on Alistair's armor. As she worked, she glanced to her companions still in the room. "You can all go to sleep. I will take care of this."

Morrigan cast worried eyes upon her. "Are you... Sure?"

She nodded. "Go. We'll be fine."

Morrigan hesitated, giving Alistair one last glance before walking out after the others.

Everil unclasped the chest piece, which had two deep gashes on the corner where his wound had been. She felt a weight in the pit of her stomach. Were it not for his heavy armor, he would have probably died in an instant.

She released a heavy sigh, her grip on the piece of torn metal tightening.

"What happened?"

Everil looked up to the bann, whose curious eyes were upon her. "It's... A long story."

"Did you call for me, my lord?"

They both turned their attention to the door to see an old elven woman stepping in, her robes telling her she had been asleep when summoned.

"Yes, Velore. The young man here is the one who needs your help." He motioned for her to get closer.

Everil stepped aside, letting the woman inspect her fellow Warden's injuries.

"His wounds are closed?" She gave her a confused look.

"We used magic in the field, but he lost a lot of blood and won't wake up," She replied softly.

"Ah, I see," She placed a hand on his forehead. "These seem to have been significant injuries. What were you fighting?"

"A dragon."

Teagan and Velore both cast surprised looks upon her.

"A dragon?" He breathed out in disbelief.

"Dragon claws sometimes contain harmful toxins that may remain in the bloodstream if not treated. I know what to do to help him, but if he has been in this state for a while, I cannot say how effective it will be," The elf uttered with a shake of her head.

"Ferelden's stability may rest upon this man's shoulders, Velore. You must save him." Teagan's tone was firm, clearly telling her there was no room for failure.

The elf tensed, then nodded once. "I… will do my best."

Everil cast a brief glance at the bann, noticing he was referring to the throne despite Alistair's clear refusal to take over the crown. She did not comment on it, however, too worried and worn out to care at the time.

Velore administered the needed herbs and cleaned up the newly scarred wounds, using elf root to help reduce the scarring before bandaging his torso to keep the medicine in place. She then replaced his bloodstained shirt with a lighter fabric, allowing him to breathe through the fever as sweat trickled down his brow. She was done in less than an hour, shifting her oversized eyes from her patient to the two still standing in the room.

"It is done," She announced quietly, wiping her hands with her apron. "Now we wait and hope he makes it through the night."

"Is that all?" Everil demanded weakly, her eyes begging. "Please… there must be something more you can do."

Teagan's brow furrowed. "Velore…?"

"I am sorry, but there is nothing else I can do," Velore quietly replied, turning a sad look to the younger man lying upon the bed. "It is all up to him now. I shall return at sunrise to check on his condition."

The healer then bowed her head and made for the door, the bag of herbs in her hands.

Everil cast her eyes upon the floor, her hands closing into fists so tightly they shook. There it was again. Powerlessness: An all too familiar feeling she despised.

"Are you going to be all right?" Teagan prompted, seeing the tension in her shoulders. "You look tired. Perhaps you should go to sleep. Some rest would —"

"No," She cut in, a little too forcefully. She swallowed and cast a weak gaze upon him. "I'm staying with him."

The bann nodded in understanding, resting his hand on her shoulder in a reassuring gesture that did nothing to make her feel better. "I will post a soldier in the hall. Send for me if you need anything."

"Thank you," She whispered somberly.

Teagan then stepped out of the room, leaving her alone with Alistair.

Her heart still heavy within her chest, she reached for the chair by the window, dragging it to sit next the bed. She placed her hands over his, her grip tightening slightly as she noticed just how cold his fingers were.

"I'm sorry… This is all my fault," She uttered miserably, the pressure on her chest almost suffocating. "Had I been more careful… then you would not have… you…"

A tear dripped down her chin to her shaking hands. She had yet to mourn the death of her family, but he had been there to help her cope from the start. She could not have led them this far without him, without his words of support and his shoulder to lean on. She needed to see his smiles and hear his smart remarks every day, to feel his gentle touch and his kisses.

She loved him. More than she ever thought possible. And upon her realization, her heart twisted painfully, the very thought of losing him terrifying her.

"Alistair…" She choked out the words, leaning down to rest her forehead upon their hands. "Please don't leave me..."

The rest of the night dragged on, her gentle sobs filling the silence in the room until her own exhaustion claimed her.

xxxxxxx

Despite the darkness around him, he recognized what he could see of the ruins, black shadows shrouding everywhere he looked. He could hear distant fighting and the clash of metal echoing while the cries of men and monsters nearly drowned it out. He took several steps forward while following the noise, traveling through what he could tell was yet another nightmare. As he walked the sounds grew louder, the shadows lighting up by the flames now burning in the distance.

Fear gripped at his chest and he found he didn't want to continue, for he knew that what he was about to see would only make his memories more painful. Yet he emerged from the sidelines, his Warden armor lighting up by the glare of the burning ground around him. Through the flames he could see the king's soldiers, swinging their blades at the creatures, only to be ran through and mercilessly dismembered. His jaw tensed, his stomach twisting and turning as he witnessed the gruesome scene before him, unable to tear his eyes away.

A massive roar was then heard, and then a body came flying from behind the flames. It landed like a rag doll next to him, splattering blood on the ground. Alistair slowly turned his eyes down to it, his heart wrenching upon seeing who it was. King Cailan's lifeless eyes stared back at him, blood oozing from his mouth. His torso was crushed and his armor warped, as if something had squeezed him like a tin can.

Alistair took a step back, his fingers curling into fists at the sight of his brother's mangled body, suddenly feeling just how much his death actually affected him. For not only did he respect him as his king, but he once was the only other person with whom he shared a connection through his father's cursed blood.

Another cry made his head whip in its direction, landing on the man he admired during the brief six months before his death. He wanted to look away, to not see how he died, but his eyes remained glued upon him. He watched as Duncan climbed up the same ogre that killed the king, burying his daggers up its chest, twisting them until it fell.

Bloodied and visibly exhausted, Duncan turned his eyes up to the sky. Alistair followed his gaze to the Tower of Ishal, where the beacon flared brightly in the night sky. His chest tightened, his eyes turning away from the beacon and back to his former mentor. It was then that he saw Duncan's shoulders slump and anger settle upon his eyes as he realized the treachery. He stopped fighting, holding onto a deep wound on his side as a hurlock rushed him with an axe.

"No!" Alistair reacted and began to run, reaching out in an attempt to save him. But as he did the hurlock struck, and he could only watch in horror as his father figure's head rolled over the ground and his body fell on a pool of its own blood.

The roar of a dragon rumbled through the sky like thunder, and still numbed and shaken from what he had witnessed, Alistair gazed up to the sky. The mighty beast flew above him, red scales shimmering from the flames below as it soared towards the tower where the beacon lay, easily breaking into it.

His eyes snapped open and he instantly regretted it as the bright light from a window sent needles into his brain. He reached for his head with a soft groan and suddenly the memories from the night before quickly flooded in. He fought through the pain and sat up, his heart racing as he desperately looked around.

He expected to see a dragon, but instead he found himself on a bed and in a familiar room. His heart's frantic beating began to calm, confusion replacing the momentary panic.

A quiet whimper next to him had him snap his head down towards Everil's sleeping form. She was leaning over from her chair and onto his bed, her head resting on her arms as her dark hair framed her flushed, dirt-stained cheeks.

Alistair's features softened at how defenseless she appeared. He slowly reached out to gently stroke her hair, noticing the bits of grass still clinging to the chocolate strands.

"Everil?" He groggily called.

She stirred, mumbling incoherently before her eyes slowly opened. She turned her dazed eyes to him, incredulity crossing her features before realization dawned upon her, her eyes growing wide.

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Hey…"

"Thank the Maker!" She shot up and threw her arms around his neck, drawing a slight grunt out of him. "Ah! I'm sorry!" She tried to pull away, but his hand gently grabbed her arm.

His brow furrowed, eyes on the large, dried blood stain on her armor. "Whose blood is that?"

She paused and looked down at herself, then slowly sat at the edge of the bed, her gaze moving to the floor. "Yours…"

His brows shot up. "Mine? Was it... that bad?"

She nodded mutely.

"Oh… well… I guess I'm more fortunate than I thought..." He muttered uncomfortably, and then looked around once more. "So… Where are we?"

"Redcliffe castle. We carried you here after the battle."

He gave her a puzzled look. "Does that mean you were able to defeat Flemeth?"

She nodded again. "Barely… but yes."

"Wow..." He breathed with a mixture of both pride and relief. "We may just have what it takes to kill the archdemon, after all."

"I don't know... Flemeth didn't have an army of angry monsters following her," She said with a tiny smile.

"Aww… And here I thought I was the pessimistic one," He said and then chuckled softly.

Everil's smile broadened, his laugh bringing her relief after nearly witnessing his death. She wanted to tell him how she felt, how deep her feelings for him truly were. That she wanted nothing but to be with him for as long as possible.

"Alistair…"

He watched her take his hand in hers and his eyes met hers. "Yes?"

She bit her lip, bashfully avoiding his gaze as her cheeks turned a brighter shade of pink. "I… I—"

The door then suddenly opened, drawing their attention away from each other.

"Andraste's mercy, you're awake!" Teagan said as he walked in, followed by Velore as a smile spread upon his lips. "Somehow I knew you would not die so easily."

"Heh… well it's not for lack of trying," Alistair replied hopelessly.

"So I see," Teagan teased, folding his arms while pretending not to notice their joined hands.

"I must say, I'm impressed you're even sitting up right now," Velore said in mild surprise as she stepped around the bed.

Everil stood and allowed the woman to get closer, watching her place a delicate hand over his forehead. "Hm… No fever."

Velore then stepped back, curiously tilting her head. "You are a Grey Warden, yes?"

"I am," He replied, his brow creasing at the question.

"That may be the reason why the dragon's curse didn't kill you."

"The taint saved my life?" Alistair uttered in disbelief. "Now there's something you don't hear every day."

"In a way, yes… your blood was simply already cursed." The elf laid her bag on the nearby table, producing more herbs.

"Ah… That's right. Lucky me." He said with a humorless smile. "Does that mean I'm well enough to fight? I don't much care for laying around doing nothing when there's a Blight destroying everything out there."

She shook her head, smashing the plants under a mortar. "Your friend here said you lost a lot of blood. I would like to keep an eye on you for at least one more day."

Alistair frowned."What? But—"

"No buts, Alistair."

He turned his eyes to Everil, who was giving him her trademark stern look.

"Everil, we still have to get the equipment we need and the trip to Orzammar will take several days, even on horseback," He gently protested. "You saw the Blight on the way here. We don't exactly have the luxury of time."

Everil folded her arms. "I'll take care of preparations while you rest. Besides, you won't be able to fight even if we went out right now."

"You don't know that. I can still wield a sword," He said, frustration edging his tone. He remembered his nightmare, recalling Duncan's lifeless eyes, his severed head facing him.

He couldn't fail him.

She shook her head. "Even if you were to kill a genlock with your bare hands, I would still say no. I will not risk you getting injured again."

"Everil stop..." He muttered moodily, giving her a hard look. "You may be leading us, but I'm also a Grey Warden. I would lay down my life in battle if it helped stop the Blight. Nothing or no one can make that decision for me."

Everil's eyes widened, her heart sinking to the pit of her stomach as she found his response completely unlike him.

A sudden jab at Alistair's injured side drew a pathetic yelp out of him, making him fold over in pain.

"What was that for!" Alistair snapped at Teagan through gritted teeth as the man drew his arm back, the critical look in the bann's eyes giving him pause.

"Do whatever you want, Alistair. I'm going," Everil muttered quietly. She reached for his damaged heavy armor, and while her arms were barely able to carry it, she tried not to show it as she walked with her head held high.

Once she left, Velore clicked her tongue as she continued to work on the healing herbs. "Fool boy..."

"Seriously… That hurt," Alistair told the bann in irritation, the pain slowly ebbing away.

"I should have struck you instead," Teagan said angrily. "Do you have any idea what you've done?

Alistair gave him a puzzled look. "What are you talking about?"

Teagan had to resist the urge to smack his hand against his own forehead, letting out a long breath instead before he spoke. "You should have seen how worried she was. She was in the verge of tears when she brought you here, and I swear I heard her breakdown the moment I left her alone with you. Yet now you tell her you would foolishly throw your life away over your own, foolish pride. Are you stupid?" He shook his head in disappointment. "I don't know what type of relationship you two have now, but she loves you. I could see it from a mile away."

Alistair's eyes widened, now seeing just how far his foot had gone into his mouth. Here he was, acting like an ass when she had obviously spent the night there with him, hoping he would wake up. He had never seen her cry, not even after her family was killed. And yet she shed tears for him.

He released a soft breath, his grip on the bed sheets tightening.

And she truly loved him?

He found himself wondering if their feelings had grown that deep. And after a short moment of silent contemplation, with Teagan's scrutinizing gaze upon him, he discovered the answer.

"I'm an idiot…"

Teagan smiled. "I couldn't agree more."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter XII

Unlike in their last visit, Redcliffe Village was bustling with activity. Children played in the square, while fishermen worked on boats and nets for their next catch. It was noon, and the sun rose high in the sky, giving the once haunted place a more cheerful appearance.

Everil led some of their companions through the village, stopping by shops for supplies. They were to get their equipment sorted out before nightfall and she was hoping to hit the road again first thing the next morning. Provided Alistair's health allowed it.

The last conversation with him upset her. She had been worried to death about him, for an injury he received while saving her life. Guilt filled her and she felt unworthy of being their leader, for placing him in danger when she should have been able to avoid the hit. But now she also wondered if her relationship with him had changed, if to him it was more important to risk it all for their task than to be with her.

 _Fool... of course that should be more important. You're both Grey Wardens._

But she wanted to be selfish. She wanted to live as long as possible, to be with him her every waking moment. She only hoped that, in some way, he felt the same way.

"Are you all right, Evy?"

She turned to look at Leliana, who was staring at her with concern.

"Ah yes… I am," She replied, the corners of her lips going up.

She had sent Wynne and Morrigan their separate ways to obtain warm cloaks they could wear. The rest were following her, making their way through the village towards the blacksmith.

"I am glad Alistair is doing better. For a moment there I thought…" Leliana shook her head with a frown. "Sorry."

Everil smiled. "It's fine."

Zevran chuckled. "He had this goddess by him all night. Of course he would get better."

Everil rolled her eyes with a grin. "Flattery will not get you that bottle of wine, Zevran."

He reached up and casually laced his fingers behind his head. "I don't know what you're talking about, my lady."

"Sure," She uttered as she opened the door to the smithy.

Owen looked up from his anvil, his face brightening as he saw them enter.

"My! What a surprise!" He put down his hammer and walked around the hearth in the room to reach out and shake her forearm.

"You look sober, Owen," Everil said as she smiled back.

The man let out a hearty laugh. "No need for drink when I know my daughter is safe thanks to you. How can I help you today lass? All services free of charge for you."

She motioned to Sten to drop Alistair's armor on the nearby table. "We need that repaired, and we will require warm armor lining for our trip north," she told him.

He nodded. "All right. When do you need the work by?"

"If possible, by tomorrow morning. I know it is short notice…"

He waved his hands before him. "No, no. You need it by tomorrow, you'll have it by tomorrow. One sleepless night is nothing compared to the trouble you went through to return my daughter to me."

"Father, supper will be ready shortly. Do you- oh."

The group turned to Valena, who gave the Warden a smile. "You've returned to the village."

Everil smiled at her. "Only for a day or so. Glad to see you made it out of the castle in one piece."

"I told you I could run fast." She giggled. "Here for some armor?"

"More or less."

"What in the Maker's name did you fight out there?" Owen lifted Alistair's armor, noticing the long gashes cutting though the metal. Everil was about to answer when he lifted a hand to stop her. "Never mind! It may be better if I don't know. Though, whatever it was I hope your friend made out alive."

"He did," Everil quietly said.

"Good. Glad to hear it." He gave her a firm nod, and then turned to the rest of the unusual group. "And the lot of you? Do you need work done too?"

Zevran shook his head. "No. Just the winter linings for us."

"All right then." Owen put down the armor and approached them. "Let's do some measurements."

xxxxxxx

"So the Urn is in a village to the northwest," Isolde uttered, standing by his bed while Teagan sat on the chair nearby.

"Yes. The plan is to visit that village on our way down from Orzammar," Alistair responded, gazing up at the arlessa.

"I see. I suppose that would be the best way to do it," Teagan said before letting out soft breath. "I admit I don't much like the waiting part, but there is no other way around it. Your task against the Blight should take precedence."

"So long as you can save my husband..." Isolde clasped her hands on her skirt, her brow furrowed with concern.

Alistair could see the dark circles under her eyes and the way her shoulders slumped with the weight of her husband's condition. He imagined it couldn't be easy to see the one you loved laying unresponsive in a bed, unable to help them or wake them. It was likely just as difficult for Connor to see his father as he was. Perhaps more so for him than his mother, considering he made a deal with a demon to help him.

"We'll save him..." Alistair uttered with a confident look. "I owe the arl that much. And we need his help against Loghain. That bastard needs to be put in his place for everything he's done..."

"Well... Velore said you would be well enough by morning, so you won't be in bed for long. You'll be back in the fight in no time," Teagan said as he stood, a small smile tugging at his lips as he folded his arms, suddenly recalling the past. "Who would have thought it? That the mud covered boy I once knew would become a man, fighting to save us all."

Alistair grinned. "You sound like an old man."

"Not old... Just nostalgic." He reached down and patted his shoulder.

"We appreciate all you and your friends are doing, Alistair," Isolde spoke quietly, a small, apologetic smile tugging at her lips. "You have given us hope. I will make sure to help you, regardless of if... You are able to find the Urn or not."

Alistair gave her a curt bow of his head. "Thank you, my lady."

"At any rate, we should probably let you rest. We shall see you in the morning." Teagan gestured for Isolde to follow him, and they stepped out, closing the door behind them.

Now alone, he curiously gazed down at his torso and reached down to lift a corner of his shirt. The elven healer had removed the bandages before her departure, revealing the angry scars on his side. He frowned as he looked at them, imagining how bad the injuries must have been before Wynne healed him.

He almost lost his life, nearly sacrificing himself for her.

"Maker... I can't imagine how she felt..." He uttered to himself, once again feeling like an idiot for having spoken to her the way he did before she left. He had to make it right somehow.

The door then opened once more, taking him away from his thoughts as someone he didn't expect to see stepped into the room.

"Why are you here?" He inquired as he lifted a brow. "Did you come to poke fun of how your mother almost sliced me in two?"

"Hmph." Morrigan lifted her chin and folded her arms, stopping a few steps from the bed. "I only came to see with my very eyes if you truly survived the night. Though 'tis difficult not to comment on how incredibly foolish 'twas of you to get in the way of her claws."

"Well I did survive. Which comes with a bonus for me since I get to see the look of disappointment on your face."

Morrigan's eyes darkened at his words.

"And there it is! Yes. Totally worth it," He said, pointing at her face with a triumphant smile. She swatted at his hand moodily, to which he chuckled in amusement, completely ignoring her glare.

Alistair then gave her a puzzled look. "I thought you and the others had gone to prepare for tomorrow. How come you're not with them?"

"I was… Your fellow Warden decided it would be a good idea to send me and the Circle mage to purchase coats and potion. So I quickly did my bidding and returned." She curled her nose as if she smelled something rotten. "I cannot stand that preachy, old hag."

"You can't stand anyone."

"...True."

An awkward silence then followed. The two only ever yelled at each other or insulted each other. This was the longest they had gone without somehow trying to bite one another's head off.

And he found it uncomfortable.

"So..." Alistair cleared his throat, giving her a sympathetic look. "You're handling your mother's death pretty well."

Morrigan scoffed. "She wanted to take over my body. Of course I will shed no tears over her passing. Still, I doubt she is gone for good."

He frowned. "That's… reassuring."

"It will likely take her time to recover, considering the Warden wounded her badly. She will not be an immediate threat to any of us for some time." Morrigan gave him a quick look over. He appeared much better than the half-dead shape he was in the night before, if only just physically worn down.

It was surprising, but Wynne's healing powers were significantly better than Flemeth's had been. She found herself wondering how it was possible. But what puzzled her the most was the hint of relief she felt knowing the idiot wasn't dead.

Alistair didn't notice the irritated look she sent him, his eyes down at the sheets covering his legs. "Do you think she'll chase after you again when she comes back?"

"Without a doubt. " She sighed, and then confidently continued. "But to her misfortune, she taught me well. I will be ready when she returns."

"Ah. Good."

She whirled around then, headed for the door. "Well I am off to my room. I know it's impossible for you, but try not to do anything stupid and hurt yourself again while we're gone."

"I make no promises," Alistair replied tiredly before watching the door close behind the witch. "That was strange..." He muttered uncomfortably. Had she really come to check on him? He didn't think she would even care. He shrugged, deciding not to dwell on it too much before he laid back down on his bed.

After the last nightmare, he was afraid of going back to sleep. But he was tired, and the healer insisted he rest as much as possible if he didn't want to end up stuck in the room for another day. He sighed, closing his eyes and quietly praying that whatever bad dream the taint had in store for him, it wouldn't be another one about Ostagar.

xxxxxxx

It was nearly nightfall by the time they were done making the necessary preparations for their trip. And after eating, they went their separate ways, each to their own room in the castle. A fireplace lit up Everil's room, its warmth cutting the cold of the room. She was reorganizing her bag when she let out a yawn, her eyes watering with exhaustion. She had only slept a few hours the prior eve, and sleeping on a chair was not the most comfortable and restful thing to do.

A whine drew her attention.

She smiled at Magnus. "It's been a long couple of days, huh boy?"

The dog barked in response.

She looked down to the nightgown she was given by one of the servants and found she was itching to jump out of the armor and into something breathable again. But more than anything she wanted a bath. She absently scratched her arm at the thought, the dried blood and sweat still clinging to her body. Thankfully she ran into one of the servants on her way back and was able to ask them to prepare one for her, the same servant who kindly provided her with something else to wear.

Everil stripped and slid into the tub, letting out a blissful sigh as she felt the warm water soak her tense, aching muscles. She reached down for the nearby rag and began to scrub the grime off, all the while enjoying the aroma of rich lavender. How she missed being able to do such things. It was surprising how the little things would go unnoticed until you lost them. She once was one of the privileged, with clean clothes, fresh baths and daily meals in a lavish castle. Now she wondered through the lands, camping out in the wilderness and eating only what they managed to hunt. It was humbling to say the least. It gave her a completely different perspective on how the less fortunate lived their lives and she was able to see the problems they faced every passing hour.

As she stood and stepped out of the waters, she thought back to her family. Her parents were the type to put their people ahead of themselves, but she imagined they didn't know what it felt like to spend a day in their shoes. She wondered if they would be proud of what she learned thus far, of what she accomplished with the help of others.

Everil threw on the plain white gown and smiled sadly, using her fingers to undo some of the knots in her damp hair. "How I miss them..." She whispered to herself, her dog tilting his head with concern at her words.

A knock snapped her out of her thoughts. She craned her head towards it and then padded her way to the door, her bare feet chilled by the stone floor. She opened it, expecting the bann or someone else in her party but, to her surprise, it was he.

"Alistair? What are you doing out of bed?" She asked, inwardly relieved to see he was well enough to stand and walk.

"I… I have to talk to you. May I?" He said, gazing down at her with pleading eyes.

"Can't it wait until morning? You should be resting..." She replied quietly, concern on her delicate features.

"I assure you, I feel better now. Wynne is a pretty good healer and Teagan's healer took care of the rest." He smiled lightly at her. "May I come in now?"

With a sigh she stepped back, opening the door for him as she spoke with a stern tone. "All right. But the moment I notice anything bothering you, I'm sending you straight back to bed."

"Yes, Mother..." He joked as he chuckled, stepping in before watching her close the door. "The guard told me you just returned. How was the trip down to the village?"

"Good. Owen said he would have our equipment sent over to us by morning. We should be able to leave soon after, just like you wanted," She said as she walked past him, her gentle tone carrying an edge of irritation.

 _So she's still upset._ Alistairthought guiltily as he silently watched her approach the window and crack it open, allowing some fresh air to flow into the room.

"That's actually…what I wanted to talk to you about," He uttered, walking to her with an apologetic look. "I uhm… I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean to upset you."

She briefly glanced at him, stubbornly folding her arms before leaning against the side of the window. The breeze gently picked up her dark locks. The moonlight shone against her skin, giving it an ethereal glow that nearly took his breath away. She didn't speak for a moment, her eyes downcast as she avoided his gaze, struggling to keep her emotions in check.

For a second he thought she was too angry to talk. That she wouldn't answer to his apology, but her soft voice then reached his ears.

"I thought I lost you..." She said quietly, recalling the terrible feeling.

Alistair's eyes softened at her words, a hint of remorse tugging at his chest. He stepped closer as he gazed at her beautiful features, his hang going up to gently cup her scarred cheek. His soft touch broke her self-control, and tears began to roll freely down her face, the sight making his heart twist painfully.

He wrapped his arms up around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry..."

She shook her head, wrapping her arms around his waist. "It was my fault... had I been more careful... Then you—"

"Don't... Flemeth was an unknown. There was no way you could've predicted her every move," He uttered firmly, resting his stubbled chin atop her head. "Or are you going to tell me you've fought a scary witch-dragon before? Because to be honest, I would believe you if you did."

Despite her tears she let out a muffled chuckle against his chest. "No..."

"See? You've nothing to blame yourself for… Besides…" He pulled back to look down at her while gently lifting her chin up so her eyes met his. "I was the one who chose to risk my life for you..." He said softly. "And I would do it again..."

Her brow furrowed. "W-why...?"

"Because I..." He murmured, carefully wiping away her tears with his thumb, gazing tenderly into her eyes. "Because I love you..."

Her eyes widened a fraction, her heart skipping merrily at his confession.

"I… I love you too…" She whispered, smiling gently at him as she leaned into his touch, her hand covering his. "And thank you… for saving my life..."

He leaned down, lightly brushing his lips against hers. "Anytime..." He whispered and then kissed her as she placed her delicate hands upon his chest, the subtle touch making his heartbeat quicken. He gently pressed his tongue to her lips, requesting entrance. She happily obliged, allowing him to invade her mouth.

As the kiss deepened she released a blissful sigh, her heart racing as his tongue gently wrestled with hers. She felt his hands move down to her waist as her arms slid up to wrap around his neck, and then she found herself pressed against his strong body as he held her tightly.

"Hm..." He hummed against her lips as he released a hot breath, kissing her more passionately as he once again became aware of how much he wanted her. He recalled all those times he caught glimpses of her skin, how he craved to touch her and hold her bare body against his own.

As he greedily devoured her lips, the heat surging through her suddenly made it difficult to breathe, making her pull back to gasp for air. But instead of stopping, he strayed, his lips trailing moist kisses down her jaw and to her neck as she moaned his name.

"I can't take it anymore..." He murmured over her skin, his deep voice sending chills down her spine. "I want to spend the night with you..."

His words caused a tingling sensation between her legs, her own body telling her how much it desired his. She bit her lip, her fingers lacing through his hair as he continued the assault on the soft skin of her neck.

"Are... are you sure?" She asked softly, remembering his hesitation the last time they became close to crossing the line.

He drew back slightly to gaze down at her, looking into her eyes with a lust she had never seen in them before, the sight making her knees feel weak.

"I wanted it to be... special... for both of us," He uttered, leaning his forehead against hers. "But after what happened, I realized just how... fragile our time together truly is... That there might never be a special time or place for us, not while we're in the middle of all this..."

"Alistair..." She breathed, gently stroking the back of his neck with her fingers.

"I don't want to wait anymore..." He lightly pressed his lips to hers. "I want my first time to be with you... In case one of us..."

She smiled, finding his bittersweet words both sad and endearing. Death was constantly looming over them and it would only take one mistake for one of them to die during their mad quest. They had no choice but to enjoy each moment as if it were their last.

"I feel the same way..." She said, hopping he would not hear how loudly her heart was ramming against her chest.

"Does that mean...?" He asked expectantly.

With a small smile, she sensually whispered against his lips. "Yes… Make me yours, Alistair..."

And those words were all he needed to hear.

He claimed her lips, their tongues resuming their earlier dance in a more fervent kiss as they moaned quietly into each other's lips. His hands slid down to her hips, holding her firmly as he led her backwards, their feet clumsily shuffling towards the bed behind her.

Her hair showered over the pillow as he lay her down, her legs spreading as he lay on top of her, his strong body pinning her lithe form against the mattress.

Their tongues continued to wrestle for dominance as his hand slowly went down her leg and up again, dragging up the fabric of her gown to expose more of her skin to his touch. He breathed heavily between kisses, absently grinding his hips against hers as he pressed his prominent bulge to her throbbing parts, her underwear doing nothing to shield her from his teasing strokes.

She whimpered in anticipation as she felt his hand slide up her bare thigh, leaving a sizzling trail behind and drawing a sensual moan out of her.

He wanted to please her, to hear more of her lustful sounds.

He broke their kiss and pulled back to gaze down at her gown, then began to untie the ribbon keeping the fabric in place. Meanwhile her lips brushed along his jaw, almost breaking his concentration as he tried to focus on undoing her clothes. He pulled on the crisscrossed cord until it was no longer in his way, finally leaving her chest at his mercy. He then knelt between her legs, his hands gently spreading apart the fabric, pushing it over her shoulders to reveal her pale breasts.

He saw her shiver involuntarily as the cool air touched her bosom, her pink, hard nipples reminding him of delicate flowers.

"Alistair...?" She blushed under his intense stare, suddenly feeling vulnerable as her chest lay bare before him.

"Maker's breath, you're beautiful..." He murmured and then brought his lips down to her collarbone, placing gentle kisses on her soft skin. He slowly made his way down and up the swell of one of her breasts, her eyes watching him intently as his lips left tingling sensations behind. He then closed his eyes and began to gently suckle on her nipple, the sudden heat of his mouth making her moan in bliss.

He licked and sucked on it while he cupped the other breast, his battle-worn hands carefully massaging it as she gasped and arched her back, his ministrations sending ripples of pleasure throughout her body. He softly pinched one of the nipples, and then graced the other with his teeth, this time earning a soft cry from her.

"Maker…" She mewled, feeling her loins throb for him.

He stopped then, his eyes meeting hers as he released his hold on her breasts. He then leaned back on his knees to pull off his tunic, revealing his chiseled muscles as he carelessly tossed the piece of clothing to the floor.

Seeing his damaged side, she reached out to him, guilt flickering in her eyes as her delicate fingers traced the angry scars that now marked him. He shuddered under her caress, his muscles tensing where she touched.

And upon seeing the look in her eyes, he took her hand in his and gently kissed her palm, before he lowered himself upon her, gently kissing her lips. "Don't worry, my love… they were worth it…"

"Alistair…" She breathed, warmth spreading over her racing heart before sealing his lips with another kiss, her tongue stroking his as her hands trailed up to his bare chest.

Still locked in the kiss, Everil carefully rolled them over, straddling his hips. Her lips then strayed down his strong jaw, making him shiver as he released shuddering breath. She absently moved her hips back and forth, her warm center rubbing against his erection, making it twitch under her as he let out a throaty groan. His hands wandered up her legs, then up her rear, following her curves while attempting to take off her clothes.

Seeing this, she sat up and pulled her gown all the way off, allowing him a full view of her naked torso as she felt his member react at the sight.

Everil ran her hands up his chest as she leaned down for another kiss, moaning against his lips when he grabbed her rump. Their tongues danced as she continued the subtle rock of her hips, her warm parts stroking his erection each time he kneaded her firm behind.

She pulled back to take a breath, gazing at him with begging eyes as she quietly pleaded. "Take me..."

Everil gasped when he suddenly rolled them over, laying her on her back once more. Kneeling between her legs, he took hold of her undergarments, undoing the knots at the sides before pulling them off her. Gulping at the view, he untied his trousers and pushed them off, releasing his hard member for her to see.

Everil drew in a thick breath as she watched it point her way, and she saw it pulse with anticipation at what was to come.

After ridding himself of his trousers, Alistair then slowly lowered his body upon hers, his hips between her legs as he gripped his member with one hand, letting it hover at her entrance. It would be her first time, so he knew it was bound to hurt.

He lightly pressed his lips to hers as he began to gradually penetrate her, giving her loving kisses while muffling her whimpers. He let out a small moan of his own, his manhood throbbing as her tight, hot walls began to slowly envelop him.

Everil held on to his shoulders as his thick member spread her open. A mixture of pleasure and discomfort cut through her as she lost her maidenhood, the foreign pain making tears well up in her eyes.

Once all the way in, he halted, pulling away from her lips to gaze at her, concern etched upon his features.

She smiled reassuringly at him, looking into his eyes. "I'm fine…"

"All right…" He whispered and then began to slowly move back, then in, shuddering at the new sensation around his member while allowing her some time for the pain to pass. He then went in half way, drawing a quiet moan from her as he tenderly kissed her jaw.

"More…" Everil purred, her heart beating wildly as her moist insides begged for his length.

Alistair thrust further in, earning a quiet cry from her as he nuzzled her neck. He drew back, then went back in, moaning as pleasure spread through him with every thrust, numbing his mind.

She whimpered, her hands trailing up his back. She wanted more of him. She wanted all of him. Everil spread her legs wider, giving him more room. And he promptly took notice of the invitation, thrusting all the way in, touching her top each time. She moaned loudly, the intense waves shooting through her loins shattering her ability to think.

"Maker… you feel so good…" He groaned breathlessly against her neck as he pulled back and went back in, his hips meeting hers. Her insides wrapped tightly around him, the warm moisture rubbing his shaft with just the right pressure.

"You do too..." She whimpered, his hot breath tickling her skin.

He brought his hand up to cup one of her breasts. He massaged it and pinched her nipple between his fingers, drawing a sensual moan from her and intensifying the sensations she felt from where they joined.

Hearing her moans filled his mind with a haze, and he yearned to hear more of her, to send her over the edge. He adjusted his legs and slightly propped up her bottom, picking up speed as his length penetrated her depths at a slightly different angle.

The subtle change instantly got him what he wanted and more. She cried out his name the moment she felt him hit a different spot within her, her moans turning into passionate cries. He leaned up to rest his forehead against hers while his hand kneaded her breast, their lustful eyes locked as their warm breaths mixed together.

Everil bit her lip, wondering if perhaps she could do something for him as well. She swallowed, then clenched her walls tighter around his member as he pulled back, making him gasp as the electric feeling suddenly sharpened. A satisfied smile spread upon her lips, her own moans joining his as she began to grind her hips against his each time they met.

Finding their rhythm, he continued, his hard rod thrusting faster against her center as his loud moans fueled hers, the friction nearly driving her crazy.

"Oh Maker!" She held on to him as if she would fall if she let go, her fingernails digging into his back as her insides began to constrict around his manhood.

Her tight hold on him was quickly reeling him towards the edge and he grabbed the bed sheets tightly with his free hand, willing himself to hold in his climax for her.

But he didn't have to wait long, as it only took a few more hard thrusts for her to come crashing down, her tensing insides taking him along with her. She heard him release a strangled cry as she cried out his name, warmth spreading through her womb as he filled her with his seed. Her body shook under his as intense pleasure washed over her. And she could feel his member pulsing within her as it continued to slide in and out of her, riding their climax until moments later he slowly came to a stop.

They remained in each other's arms in comfortable silence for a moment, as the two struggled to catch their breath, their bodies blissfully numb.

She felt him release a heavy sigh while nuzzling the crook of her neck.

"Alistair...?" She quietly called, running her fingers through his hair.

"Yes...?" He breathed, placing gentle kissed on her neck.

"Hmm…" She smiled, tilting her head as she enjoyed th feeling of his lips against her skin. "Where does a templar… learn how to do that?"

He smiled. "Not at the chantry... According to the sisters I should have been struck by lighting by now…"

"Is that so…?" She chuckled. "I thought it was you doing that…"

He laughed lightly as he lifted himself up to meet her gaze, a small smile upon his lips. He then gently stroked her cheek with his thumb, the earlier hunger in his eyes replaced by loving tenderness as he gazed into hers.

"I love you…" He leaned down for a soft kiss, then another.

"I love you too…" She murmured between kisses, and she found herself wishing for their moment to last forever.

xxxxxxx

Something wet on his cheek made Alistair's eyes slowly open, his vision gradually clearing to see the wide, black nose of a dog. He gave it a confused look, his mind still clouded with sleep.

It licked his face again, drawing a slightly irritated groan out of him as he suddenly remembered where he was.

"You were here the entire time…?" Alistair uttered groggily, gently pushing the dog's snout back before petting his head, a tired lopsided smile on his face. "Hopefully you're not smart enough to be traumatized by what happened last night."

Magnus whined with a questioning tilt of his head.

Alistair chuckled, scratching the dog's ear. "I guess we don't have to worry about you, after all."

He was then aware of the warm body leaning against him, and he looked down to his chest, a smile tugging at his lips.

She lay asleep upon his breast, her arm limp across his torso. Her tousled hair draped over the arm he had wrapped around her bare shoulders. She mumbled something in her sleep, a quiet whine leaving her.

Her nightmares were no doubt worse than his, the taint still new in her blood.

With a sympathetic gaze, he gently stroked her arm. "Everil."

"Hmm…?" She stirred awake, her face scrunching up as she slowly realized she was no longer dreaming. She cranked her head up, her drowsy eyes meeting his.

"Good morning..." He murmured as he softly slid his hand down her back, the feather-like touch sending shivers down her spine.

She smiled and laid her head back upon his chest, snuggling up to him. "Morning…"

He stroked her hair, absently playing with her wavy locks. "Shouldn't we be getting out of bed?"

"In a minute…" She sighed hopelessly. "Not looking forward to the next trip…"

He laughed lightly. "Oh I'm sure a walk through the freezing mountains won't be so bad. Especially when we can pass the time listening to our little party make snide comments about how we spent the night together."

Everil lifted her head and looked at him, brows shooting up. "You think they heard us?"

"The walls in Redcliffe Castle aren't as thick as they seem, you know. Not to mention you were pretty loud," He said as he smiled proudly, twirling a lock of her hair between his fingers.

Everil's face heated up at his words, her cheeks turning pink. "Well if they say anything, I'll feed them to the darkspawn."

"Aww...!" He wrapped his arms around her as he rolled onto his side, hugging her tightly while tenderly rubbing his cheek against her forehead. "See? This is why I love you..."

She let out a soft chuckle, her heart soaring upon hearing him say those three words once more. She wrapped her arms around his waist, nuzzling his chest while taking in his masculine scent.

"Hmm… I wish we had a bit more time…" He uttered, the rough edge back in his voice as she felt his fingers trail down her bare back, his touch leaving goose bumps in its wake.

She craned her head back to gaze up at him, and then his hazel-brown eyes caught hers, staring intently into them. Her heartbeat quickened under his stare before he slowly leaned over, pressing his lips to hers in a tender kiss.

She returned the kiss, her hands sliding up his hard chest before she pulled back to whisper against his lips. "Perhaps we do…"

He kissed her again, this time more passionately as he rolled her onto her back, his body upon hers as her arms wrapped around his neck.

A knock on the door interrupted the two, instantly breaking their moment.

Alistair pulled back from her lips with a disappointed sigh. "Or not…"

Another knock then reached their ears.

"I should probably get that..." She quietly told him.

He reluctantly released his hold on her, allowing her to slide off the bed as he sat up, adjusting the sheets to cover the bottom half of his body. He stared intently at her nude body, his eyes following the curves of her backside as she bent over to pick up her clothes from the floor. She threw on her nightgown and then another knock sounded out, followed by the bann's voice. "Lady Everil? Are you in there? This is urgent."

"Hold a moment," She called out, tying the lace securely over her chest before walking up to the door, opening it to reveal an alarmed Teagan. "What's wrong?" She asked as she frowned worriedly.

"Alistair is not in his room. Have you—" He saw past her shoulder, eyes growing wide upon landing on the man currently waving at him from her bed.

"Uh…" The bann's eyes shifted to Everil, taking notice of her messy hair and flushed cheeks before he returned his attention to the grinning Alistair.

"Did you need me for anything, Teagan?" Alistair asked casually, laughing inwardly at the awkward look he was giving them.

"Uhm no… I just…" Teagan cleared his throat. "I wanted to see how you were doing, but it's obvious you're feeling better."

"Yes, I am. Better than ever." Alistair gave Everil a pointed look, to which she responded with a playful roll of her eyes and a shake of her head.

She gazed up at the bann, a firm expression dawning upon her. "Bann Teagan, has the blacksmith delivered a package for us?"

He nodded. "He may have… I believe some townsmen helped Isolde's maid bring something from the village."

She gave a firm nod. "Good. Then we will be leaving shortly."

Upon receiving the goods the group set out again, thanking the bann and the arlessa for their hospitality and leaving with the promise to bring Andraste's ashes the next time they visit.

xxxxxxx

By midday the group was nearing Sulcher's Pass, a small clearing on the way north to the Dwarven kingdom. Everil focused on the road, listening to the noises the trees made as they passed them by.

Soon they began to see ruins of stone marking the area, no doubt crumbling remains from the Tevinter rule, surrounded by the thick vegetation. Movement in the distance caught their attention, as a carriage sitting with boxes laid out around came into their line of vision.

A man she assumed was the owner waved towards them, calling for them. "Oy!"

They approached him, Everil halting her horse.

"Maker, you're Grey Wardens?" His brows shot up with slight surprise, spotting the emblem on her armor.

"We are. Do you need help?" Everil's brow furrowed, wondering what it was the man was doing out there on his own.

"Sort of… Have the lot o' you seen a goat around here? The old girl got spooked and ran off." He asked irritably, scratching the back of his head.

She shook her head. "I'm afraid we haven't seen her. Do you need help finding her?"

"No, you look like you've got places to be." He sighed, glancing to his wagon and then gazing back up at her with a worried frown. "Say… without that goats help I have a few too many things to carry on my own. There's something 'ere I don't have a use for that may just come in handy to you Wardens. Would you be interested in taking it off my shoulders?"

Alistair moved his horse next to Everil's, giving the man a securitizing stare. "That depends. What is it?"

He gestured for them to follow him to his wagon, and Everil and Alistair exchanged a glance before they dismounted,

"Wait for us here," She told the others and the two followed the stranger.

The man reached into the wagon and pulled out a long, stone rod with glowing blue symbols inscribed along its surface. He turned to them, holding it with both hands. "This was given to me by a friend of mine to the east. He said it can be used to control a golem! Only I don't have the command phrase to use it."

"A golem?" Everil folded her arms. "So…why is it you want to do away with it? How much would it cost us?"

The Dwarves in their wars once used golems, and they were said to have been formidable fighters, hard to bring down and nearly immortal. But that was in ancient times when they ruled their massive underground empire, which spanned all of Ferelden and beyond before the darkspawn nearly annihilated them during the First Blight, massively shrinking their territory to just Orzammar.

If there was a golem out there, she was sure anyone who owned it would have an incredible advantage in battle.

"I'm not that interested in owning a golem. I'm just a merchant… it would go to waste in my hands. And I'm not charging you anything, since this would be a favor to me."

"So where would we find this golem?" Alistair raised a brow.

"I heard it's been sitting in a little town. Honnleath."

Alistair turned to Everil. "I know the place. Arl Eamon owns those lands. However, I uh… don't know if having a hulking rock-monster walking around with us would be a good idea."

The merchant smiled. "I read once that so long as you have the rod, the golem will be forced to obey you. So it won't be able to hurt anyone." He scratched his head. "Well… at least not unless you tell it to."

Everil smiled up at Alistair. "I would like to see the golem, at least. I think it's worth the risk."

He felt a corner of his lip go up. "You're the leader."

With that she took the rod from the merchant, strapping it to her back. With a quick thank you, they returned to their horses and after mounting her stallion Everil turned to the others.

"Change of plans. We have a small errand to run," She announced to the group.

"An errand?" Morrigan questioned with slight irritation. "Have we not wasted enough time as it is? Mostly thanks to the idiot's moronic encounter with the claws of a dragon."

"One we had to fight to save your skin, by the way," Alistair replied with a subtle glare her way. "So I guess that makes it your fault too."

Morrigan glowered at him. "You dare—"

"Everil?" He ignored her, turning to the Warden as the witch let out a huff. "Mind if I lead the way this time? I know a shortcut to the village. I can get us there faster."

Everil's brows went up at the uncharacteristic question. "Uh... of course. I don't mind."

He grinned playfully. "Great! Let's go."

Everil watched him veer his horse towards the woods, her eyes settling upon his back as she and the others followed. After the night they spent together she came to realize he had been changing for some time, perhaps since she spoke to him after meeting his sister. She couldn't quite place it, but lately he seemed to be much more assertive and sure of himself.

She smiled to herself, finding she liked this side of him.

They cut through the thick of the woods this time, forced to occasionally dock to avoid the hanging branches, likely a path that didn't require them to back track through the road. They were surrounded by relative silence despite the chirping of the birds and the rustling of the leaves, and had she not known there was chaos running rampant in Ferelden she would have been fooled by the quiet.

Zevran's voice interrupted the silence. "My lady, I have a question, if you will indulge me."

Everil glanced his way. "Yes?"

"We have fought our fair share of these... darkspawn. But I don't think I quite understand what it is that makes a Blight. Is it that storm we saw on the way to Redcliffe?"

Everil was about to respond when Leliana cut in. "You never heard the story behind the Blight? The Chantry speaks of it all the time."

Zevran chuckled. "I don't know if you've noticed, my dear, but religion is not in my list of skills. In fact, I've never set foot in a Chantry my entire life. Oh wait—" He paused and tapped his chin with his finger. "I did kill a priest once."

"A priest? Why?" Leliana gave him a distraught look.

He shrugged. "He had been meddling in politics. Sassing the wrong people. Your Chantry is not as pure as they pretend to be."

She frowned. "Still… killing in one of the Maker's homesteads..."

He gave her a sly smile. "Like I said... religion: Not in my list of skills. And might I add, not in my favorites list either."

"At any rate..." He returned his gaze to Everil. "What makes this all so different? What's the difference between a Blight and no Blight? Don't darkspawn occasionally raid villages down here?"

Everil returned her gaze to the foliage ahead as she spoke. "A tainted god commands them during a Blight, turning small raids into a horde that tramples the lands. That's the difference."

Zevran cast a bewildered look upon her, then craned his head to glance at Alistair.

Just what had he gotten himself into?

He was no hero. He did what he wanted and got what he wanted— Of course within the constraints of his servitude to the Crows. Now he was traveling with a group he barely knew, fighting creatures he knew close to nothing about. And he was free. Free to make that choice without following someone else's motivations. Yet it didn't feel wrong to help. It felt different. "I suppose it would feel better to die fighting for your little country, than to die at the hands of a Crow," He uttered with a lopsided smile.

"You know…" Alistair looked over his shoulder, drawing his attention. "I think that's the first time I didn't find something you said incredibly annoying."

Zevran snickered wickedly. "See? I told you making love to a ravaging woman would lighten your mood."

"Aaand here we go… I knew it wouldn't take long." Alistair sighed, hanging his head.

"Zevran," Everil warned, a tint of red spreading over her cheeks.

"What?" He gave Everil a casual look. "You two didn't seem to care about us hearing you last night, despite knowing we were all just down the hall. Don't you think it's a little late for modesty?"

His words had the desired effect.

She looked away and avoided his gaze in embarrassment, but a stubborn look of irritation remained upon her face. The others sent them a mixture of knowing smiles, a scowl and a stern gaze.

Alistair ran a hand over his heated face with a groan. "Maker…"

"Ah yes, Him." Zevran smiled at the female Warden. "I didn't think you were the religious sort, my lady."

Everil released a frustrated breath, resisting the urge to reach out and smack off the elf's teasing grin.

"Now, now. Enough of such talk," Wynne chastised gently.

"Why? I'm having so much fun," Zevran replied dejectedly, like a kid whose toy was taken away.

Wynne chuckled. "I'm sure you are… you like her, don't you?"

Alistair turned sharp eyes to the elf.

And Zevran met the other man's stare. "So what if I do?"

"And you can see she is taken, so you enjoy teasing them to make up for it," Wynne added with a smile. "Jealousy is not healthy, boy."

Zevran scratched the back of his head. "Sure… whatever."

A rustle in the bushes ahead made the group grow quiet, their gaze turning in its direction. Suddenly a young boy stumbled out, covered in blood from head to toe. "H-help...!"

Everil slid off her horse as he fell, rushing towards him. "Hey!"

She knelt, placing a hand on his shoulder as she quickly looked him over. He was covered in deep cuts and burns, bleeding onto the ground.

"H-help… the village…!" He choked out through coughs of blood.

She watched in silence as his eyes glazed over, a soft sigh escaping his chapped lips as life left him. Everil pressed her lips together, her jaw tensing as she clenched her teeth. This boy was barely a man, his features still those of a child.

She clicked her tongue and quickly stood before rushing for her stallion to climb it up without a word.

As if knowing what she was thinking, Alistair immediately kicked his horse into motion, as she and the others followed suit. They rode quickly through the woods towards their destination, the trees becoming a blur as the familiar scratching in her head told her the enemy was drawing near.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter XIII

They rode the rest of the way past the edge of the woods, the small village coming into view before them, nestled atop a hill a distance away. Huts were covered in flames as a spire of ash and smoke rose up above it, the distant cries of the inhabitants reaching their ears. The group brought their horses to a halt, dismounting and drawing their weapons as darkspawn charged towards them.

Everil slashed at the incoming genlock, slicing through its neck. It fell as it sprayed blood, more of them coming their way.

Alistair stabbed his sword into another, piercing through its armor as it screeched out in pain.

As they made their way up the hill more darkspawn came their way, their weapons raised high above their heads.

Leliana released a string of arrows that stabbed into their throats, while Sten rushed them with a mighty swipe of his sword.

"Why are they running towards us?" Wynne shouted above the gurgling cries of the enemy as more were cut down.

Everil stopped and looked up, watching as a few more ran in their direction. Though instead of looking for them they seemed to be running away, like mice chased by a cat. Another one got too close, and she cut its head clean off before glancing towards her party. "Something is driving them away. Come on!"

They ran up the rest of the way, turning a corner into the village square. Human bodies scattered about, torn to pieces to the point it was hard to tell which body part was what. Darkspawn also lay dead, thrown about, their bodies twisted while the stragglers made for the village exit. And in the middle of all the death stood a little girl with two long, blond braids, holding a cat in her arms as she watched the darkspawn flee in terror.

"Kill the rest!" Everil commanded to the others before she ran towards the child, leaving them to eliminate what remained of the creatures. She approached the child and dropped to a knee, a concerned look upon her features. "Are you all right?"

The girl slowly nodded.

"Grey Warden!"

Everil looked up past the girl to a group of people at the other side of the village, surrounded by light as one of the men, who was apparently a mage, had his hands raised to create a force field of sorts. Darkspawn lay dead at the foot of the shield, seemingly having been thrown against it.

The Warden slowly stood while her companions stepped to her upon completing their task, leaving the dead monsters behind. She turned to her healer. "Wynne, see to the child."

She nodded. "Got it." The old mage knelt next to the girl, gently taking her shaky hand in hers. "It's all right now, darling. We're here to help."

"You are?" She whimpered.

Wynne gave her a kind smile. "Indeed we are."

Everil stepped around them and walked to the force field while the others followed. "What's happening here? Why did the darkspawn flee?"

"That's my daughter, Amelia! She's not what she seems. Please help her!" The man responded with alarm, his shields still up around him and the cowering villagers behind him.

"What are you talking about?" Her frown deepened and she shifted her eyes to the child to see Wynne gently stroking her arm, speaking quietly to her in an effort to calm her trembling little body. She returned her attention to the villagers. "She seems fine to me. Why don't you lower your shields so we may talk?"

"You don't understand! That cat is a demon! It will try to kill my people if I do that!" He pleaded, and as he said those words a scream reached their ears.

They all whirled around to see Wynne being lifted into the air by an unseen force, her body stiff and unable to move.

"Wynne!" Everil made to run towards the two, only to be stopped by a woman's voice piercing their minds.

" _I wouldn't get closer if I were you, mortal."_

The cat's eyes glowed red, piercing into their souls.

"So you're the reason the darkspawn were fleeing the village…" Alistair muttered next to Everil, narrowing his eyes at the child.

"What's a demon doing here? Is that girl a mage?" Everil asked over her shoulder at the child's father.

He shook his head. "No! She-"

The demon let out a small chuckle. _"I was here all along! Summoned and chained by Willhem the mage, the long dead grandfather of this brat. Amelia simply awoke me from my slumber, begging me to save her little village."_ The cat's face twisted into a distorted snarl _. "And now it's done. And now she's mine."_

Everil scowled, her gaze meeting the crimson eyes of the demon. "Let them go."

" _No."_ It quipped. _"I am still tied to this village. This woman will help me break the seal and then I shall use the child's body to roam your world free of these shackles!"_

Suddenly bony hands broke out of the ground, rotten skin barely clinging to the fingers.

" _And there is nothing you can do to stop me!"_ It cackled maniacally while the small army of undead pulled themselves out of the ground around it, wielding dated weapons and armor that could barely hold together.

The girl then ran, taking the cat with her as she grabbed Wynne's wrist, dragging her along towards the open door to one of the houses.

"Wait!" Everil took a step forward, only to be blocked by one of the skelletons. In one swipe she decapitated it, then blocked the attacks of another as it swung at her from the side. She kicked its knee and it buckled, before she brought her sword in a diagonal strike, slicing off part of its head.

It flopped back, and Everil's eyes widened as she saw the numbers rapidly increase, ghastly groans and moans filling their ears. She gritted her teeth and craned her head towards the door through which the child had disappeared.

She turned to the father. "Where is it going? Tell me quickly."

"Underground," He uttered, too afraid still to put down his shield. "There's a passage in the cellar that leads to some ancient crypts and my father's old magic chamber."

"Leliana, Magnus! Come with me!" She called, then looked to her fellow Warden. "Alistair, you and the others stay here and protect these people. I'm going after that thing."

"Got it." He leaned down for a quick kiss, his eyes lingering on hers as he pulled back. "Be careful."

"Of course," She replied with a half-smile. Everil then turned on her heel, heading towards the hut with weapons in hand while Leliana and her hound tailed her.

Alistair watched them go then blocked a blade with his, pushing back against it. He then reached back to pull his shield, hitting the creature with its edge. He swung and cut off its weapon arm, then stabbed its neck, letting it fall back as he pulled his sword out of it.

The people behind them were the only ones left in the village, and he didn't know how long their mage could hold up his barrier. They had to protect them until the demon lay dead, and although it made him nervous she was going in without him, he knew that if anyone could handle it, it would be her.

He then blocked another hit, uttering between gritted teeth. "Redcliffe all over again…"

Their enemy's stumble then turned into a clumsy run, their weapons raised as they grew nearer.

He turned to the others. "All right! No matter what happens, let's keep these things away from these people! Morrigan!"

The witch's eyes switched from a burning corpse over to him.

"Ice them as they come in! We have to slow their advance as much as possible!"

She paused for a moment, then gave him a brief nod before she began to chant. A wave of ice swept the first row of enemies, freezing them on the spot.

"Never thought I would see the dead come back to life!" Zevran shouted from his side of the field before he broke into a run, swinging his weapons and breaking through the ice with ease.

Morrigan cast another ice spell, freezing another section of the advancing group of enemies. One of those not frozen charged at the elf, swinging sideways with its blade. Zevran easily dodged and sliced its head off, then kicked its body to the ground.

"Ten down!" He shouted, grinning towards the Warden.

Alistair looked towards him with a raised brow, pulling his blade out of his enemy's head. Movement from the corner of his eye made him swing at another corpse, severing its head.

"Twelve!" He shouted.

Zevran then killed several in one swing. "Thirteen!"

Alistair hit another with the pummel of his sword, shattering its skull before he slashed through one more. "Fourteen!"

The sound of bones being crushed and ice shattering then had the two looking towards Sten. Like a mighty twister of muscle and metal, the qunari swung his sword, releasing a war cry while taking out several corpses at once, sending their body parts scattering over the ground. He turned his piercing eyes to another group, then rushed in, swinging sideways and slicing several more in half.

Both Alistair and Zevran watched in awe as the qunari easily decimated a portion of their opposition, completely unfazed by their numbers.

"How many was that?" Zevran asked numbly.

"Enough to make me want to stop counting," Alistair replied as he watched Sten send a severe look his way, rotating his shoulders before resuming his killing spree.

But no matter how many they killed, they kept coming. Some putting themselves back together and rising from the ground to attack again, while others emerged from the ground.

xxxxxxx

The two women made their way through crypt, followed by the hound. It was dark, damp and quiet, the open tombs they passed sending chills up her spine. Everil found herself wondering just what sort of man would have something like this hiding away in his cellar, and as she recalled the name Willhem she knew who it was.

He had been a mage who served the crown when the once Prince Maric took back Ferelden's throne from the Orlesian Empire. She had once heard the man had a short temper, and an ego the size of a giant. But he had helped the king free the country, and was respected across all circles of nobility.

Soon they made it through the dark to a door, and Everil carefully opened it, sword in hand. On the other side was a large chamber, well lit with flames. The three entered, Everil's eyes narrowing upon spotting the child at the center, Wynne standing beside her.

" _So you followed me. How convenient."_ The demon's gaze focused upon them once more. _"This woman is too frail to work the mechanisms in the seal that traps me."_

The demon flung Wynne towards her, and Everil quickly spread her arms, catching her with a grunt as the impact knocked her into her rear, Wynne going down with her.

Leliana fell on her knees beside her, concern etched upon her brow as Everil gently laid the unconscious mage down on her back.

She placed a hand on Wynne's cheek, noticing the red burns on her pale skin.

Leliana scowled in anger. Wynne had become like a mother figure to all of them, keeping them in line and motivating them during hard situations. She sent a glare to the cat. "You will pay for this, you foul creature!"

It chuckled. _"Come now. Perhaps we can reach an agreement without resorting to violence."_

The Warden pushed herself up to her feet, then took a step towards the child, her sword at the ready. "You are way past the bargaining point, demon."

" _What's this? You wouldn't kill the child, now would you?"_

"The girl isn't possessed yet. All I have to do is kill the cat," Everil responded coolly.

The demon's eyes flashed bright red at her words. _"I still have control over her mind, mortal. She won't let you near me. You will have to kill her to get to me or listen to what I offer."_

Everil's grip on her weapon tightened. "What is it you want?"

Leliana's head shot up. "Evy, you couldn't possibly…"

She raised a hand, effectively silencing her.

The demon laughed. _"I knew you would understand. You seem like a smart human. Here is what I offer: Release my shackles and allow me to possess this child. She and the other villagers will live, her father will not notice the change, and I will be able to live among you as a mortal would."_ It snarled, as if attempting to smile _. "We all win."_

"And the alternative?" Everil raised a brow.

" _How long do you think your friends will last up there? I can summon and mend the undead, making my army practically endless. And unless you kill Amelia and me, or release me, it will not stop."_ A mirthful giggle escaped it. _"Or you could flee and leave the village at my mercy, though I highly doubt you would do such a thing, Grey Warden."_

Everil pressed her lips into a thin line, her mind weighing their options, silence stretching as the demon waited patiently for her answer. "Fine... I shall set you free."

"Evy…" Leliana uttered uncomfortably.

The Warden gazed at her from the corner of her eye. "We do not have much of a choice, Leliana."

The demon let out another laugh, casting its eyes on the metal patterns on the ground behind it. _"This is the seal Willhem kindly built for me. One of the moving pieces has to be placed on the slot at the end of the puzzle, once set in place I will be free. However, if you get it wrong, you will end up like your friend there."_

With a confident look Everil sheathed her weapon and walked towards the platform, while Leliana and her hound gave her concerned looks. She stepped onto it, glancing over it.

There were metal squares that were movable, each with a pentagram drawn onto it. It reminded her of a sliding puzzle, only a seemingly dangerous version of it. Her sharp eyes traveled the mechanisms underneath, trying to map the paths for all the pieces in her mind. She could feel the heat radiating from some of the slots where the pieces fit in, which told her perhaps it would be a good idea to avoid sliding pieces into them.

Taking a breath she approached the first piece, taking a knee to place her gloved hands over it. She pushed it forward and watched it slide through the metal railing, hitting a corner as the railing bent downward across the platform. She continued pushing the pieces while Leliana watched worriedly from afar, Wynne's head still resting upon her lap. Then one of the pieces slid into a hot slot. Everil jumped back, narrowly avoiding the flames bursting up in a chain through the platform.

"Damn it…" She breathed out as she watched the flames slowly die down, all the while the demon laughed at her.

" _Nice reflexes, mortal."_

She shot it a dirty look and pushed herself back up, returning to the last piece she tried to move.

Everil breathed a sigh of relief when the last piece made it to the end of the puzzle, clicking still as it glowed a cool blue.

The demon released a moan as the cat's body glowed, dropping from the little girl's arms and landing gracefully on the floor. The shape of a woman emerged from the cat's body, sharp curves rounding her naked, purple body. Everil kept her sight on her as she turned to face her, the creature hovering inches from the ground as its eyes bore into hers.

"A deal is a deal, human." A wicked smile spread over her lips, her fangs poking out.

Like a predator honing down on its prey, the demon's gaze went to Amelia, her yellow eyes glowing red as she approached the frightened child.

"Kitty?" Amelia, now fully awake, looked up at the demon, tears streaming down her pale cheeks as the color drained from her face.

The demon chuckled, her clawed hand reaching out to her. "We can be together forever now, Amelia."

Blood sprayed, blocking the demon's vision while Amelia's eyes rolled behind her head as she fainted. The demon pulled its arm back to find her forearm was now missing, a bewildered expression dawning upon her as she saw the blood flowing freely from the stump. She then watched as Everil stepped between her and the child, her blade in hand as blood dripped to the floor.

"Sorry, but I can't keep my word this time," Everil said with a smirk.

Leliana stood, drawing her weapon while Magnus also dropped into a battle stance, growling at the demon.

"You tricked me…" The demon uttered in disbelief, anger quickly bubbling up as she bore her fangs. "You bitch!"

The demon swiped at her with her other arm, Everil blocked her claws and side stepped, dodging another hit. The demon roared, attacking again and again as the Warden blocked every hit with her blade, slowly drawing her away from the unconscious Amelia.

Leliana then broke into a dash, both her daggers at the ready as she neared the demon from behind. The creature was forced to block with her remaining arm, while Magnus latched on to her leg.

She cried out and in her anger she released a shockwave that sent them all flying in opposite directions.

With a huff, Everil rolled onto her feet, bringing up her sword to guard against another hit from the demon. Her jaw tensed as the creature applied more pressure, glaring down at her as rage twisted her face.

The Warden's arms shook as she pushed back, her eyes unwavering.

"I will tear you to shreds!" The demon roared down at her.

Sparks surrounded the creature as it prepared another attack, and seeing this Everil quickly shifted to the side and rolled, dodging a stream of electricity that shot straight through where she once stood. Everil then kicked forward, closing the distance once more.

The demon swiped and she docked, before slashing upwards, forcing her to block. She pushed down, breaking the Warden's stance before slashing at her again. Everil turned, earning a small scratch on the arm as she twisted her body to quickly avoid the attack, bringing her sword sideways upon her. The demon blocked again and pushed further down, her strength making Everil bend her knees.

Three arrows suddenly connected with its back, making it cry out in pain while her hound jumped onto her arm, locking his jaws around it.

Everil took advantage, thrusting her sword through the creature's chest and bringing her dagger up to its neck.

"This is for Wynne!" She cried out, and the demon's eyes widened as the Warden sliced her dagger through her neck, lopping off her head as blood sprayed over her.

The demon's body then sank to its knees before Everil put her foot on the chest to push it off her sword, gazing coldly upon it as it fell.

xxxxxxx

Alistair sliced through one of the corpses before breathlessly eyeing his companions. Zevran seemed all right despite the minor cuts, Morrigan was out of breath but had managed to remain untouched. While Sten seemed tired but continued to fight through the exhaustion. He dodged another blade and stabbed his into the creature's gut, then brought his shield arm around to use the edge to knock off the skeleton's head.

"Why won't they stay down!?" Zevran shouted from his spot on the field, irritation in his tired voice as the one he had just killed put itself back together.

"It's the demon's powers! Until it lies dead I fear they will keep coming back!" Matthias shouted, sweat sliding down his brow before he cast a wave of flames upon those approaching him.

They had managed to keep the corpses from crossing further towards the villagers behind them, which was better ever since Matthias the mage had been forced to drop his barrier to help them.

Suddenly the corpses stopped moving, and one by one they began to drop as the demon's influence over the village slowly faded. The group looked on in bewilderment, lowering their weapons as the last enemy fell.

The sound of a door opening made them turn their heads towards it to see Everil step out, carefully carrying the sleeping Amelia in her arms. She calmly made her way to them, still covered in blood as her hair gently swayed with each step. Leliana walked behind her, Wynne resting on her back while Magnus followed behind them.

Matthias ran and met them halfway. "Amelia!"

"She's fine, only sleeping," Everil said with a small smile as she handed the child over to her father.

"Thank you! I… thank you!" He uttered with great relief, tears welling up in his eyes while holding his daughter tightly.

"Once you're done tending to her and your people, I need to talk to you."

His eyes turned back to the Warden. "Of course..."

"Please do not take too long, my party and I have to keep moving," She told him with a firm tone, leaving no room for argument.

He nodded numbly, watching her and Leliana walk past him to meet with the others of their group.

Everil stopped next to Alistair as Leliana carefully leaned a slowly awakening Wynne against a nearby wall, pulling out a balm to begin treating her wounds. She heard her utter reassuring words as the old woman winced under her touch.

"How is she?" He asked worriedly.

She folded her arms. "Minor burns and bruises…"

"She's tougher than she looks."

She sighed. "I know..."

Upon seeing Everil staring in concern, the old woman sent her a reassuring smile from afar, drawing a nod from the Warden.

Steps from behind them had the group turning their attention to Matthias.

"I thank you again for saving the village. If you hadn't come when you did…" He shuddered. "I don't really want to think about it. Uh… at any rate, what is it you needed to talk about, Warden?"

"I have a question for you." She gazed up to Matthias, pulling the rod from behind her back. "That golem over there." She pointed to the rock statue standing in the middle of the square. "How do you awaken it with this?"

Matthias gave her a puzzled look. "Shale?" His eyes then darkened. "That thing killed my father. Why would you want it?"

Everil ignored the warning, refusing to back away from a potential resource. "We need it to help against the Blight."

"You would be willing to risk the danger?"

"Yes."

He sighed. "Very well. I will show you how to awaken it."

xxxxxxx

Its eyes lit up a bright blue, the symbol on its forehead flaring as its joints began to pop and turn. It let out a groan as if yawning, then turned its gaze upon her, its stone face twisting into a cold scowl.

"Hmph… I must admit I didn't expect the next one to be a female… and not a mage." It spoke, the deep vocals matching its massive body as it stood five heads taller than she.

Everil cranked her head up to meet its gaze, unfazed by its intimidating size. "My name is Everil Cousland. We need your help."

"It speaks?" The golem's stone brows lifted up in amazement. "And it asks for my assistance?"

Everil frowned at the way it was referring to her. "Y-yes. We need you to fight with us against the Blight."

"The rod allows it to command me. Surely it knew asking in such a way is not necessary." It placed its hand on its chin, giving her the closest look of puzzlement it could muster. "Wait a moment… something doesn't feel quite right here. I ask that it command me to perform an action using the rod."

"All right... I command you to walk over there." She awkwardly waved the rod to the side.

Shale gasped in surprise. "Nothing... No compelling feeling to obey."

Alistair stepped up next to her. "I don't like this."

She gave him a quick glance, then cast a stern look at the golem. "Why is the rod not working?"

It shrugged. "Perhaps it's broken? Regardless, it seems I am free to make my own decisions. Hm...What an odd thing to say..."

Everil folded her arms. "So what does that mean? What will you do now?"

"I… I honestly don't know. I don't remember anything from my past or what I used to do before that pathetic little mage took control of me. So I suppose I have no plans for myself now." It tilted its head. "It said it wanted help defeating the darkspawn. I will help it, at least until I find a new purpose for myself."

She opened her mouth to talk, but Alistair spoke up first.

"Hold a moment." He lifted his index finger to the golem and turned to her. Without waiting for a response he gently took her by the wrist, leading her to the side while the others in their group sent them quizzical stares.

"I know what you're about to do, and I don't think it's a good idea to walk around with an unshackled golem," Alistair told her under his breath, trying to keep the conversation just between them.

"Come now, darling," Everil chuckled, folding her arms. "Can you imagine the number of darkspawn Shale could take out at once?"

"Oh I can. But I can also imagine how many of us it could kill if it turns on us. You heard Matthias. It murdered its prior owner."

She shrugged a shoulder. "I think the gain is worth the risk. We could use another heavy hitter. Besides, we don't know if the mage deserved what he got."

He reached up to rub the back of his neck, shaking his head. "It's still too dangerous."

"Don't worry so much." She grinned and playfully winked up at him. "Just trust me."

Alistair couldn't help but smile hopelessly as he watched her turn around and head back to the group. In the end she had proven to be a better judge of character than he. He had been adamant about having some of their companions around, seeing them as crazy or unworthy of trust.

A witch of the wilds with little to no social skills.

A former nun who could kill any man from the shadows, while staring at women with a seductive smile.

An assassin who had once tried to claim their lives, but was now willing to give up his life for her.

The sage mage who kept them all in line with her motherly words while healing their wounds.

A qunari who spoke little, constantly looking down on everyone, yet was as loyal as any soldier.

And him. A man whose past had turned him into a giant ball of insecurities, something he had been trying to overcome since Denerim.

They all had their faults, but each of them followed her loyally, risking their lives for her without hesitation.

From a distance he observed her interaction with Shale, watching as she reached out for a handshake. Her small hand disappeared into the golem's much bigger hand, one strong enough to crush hers into paste. But while the thought made him slightly nervous, he felt a tug at the corner of his lip. If she had managed to keep their band of misfits working together, then perhaps there really was nothing to worry about.

xxxxxxx

The day darkened as the full moon rose above, its light threatening to drown that of the stars now slowly appearing against the black curtain covering the skies. The cool breeze rustled the canopy of the trees, the only sound until the clash of metal resounded in the clearing.

Two figures locked blades, their shifting silhouettes lit by the nearby campfire around which others sat to watch.

Everil huffed as her sparring partner's dagger collided with hers more forcefully now, making her feet slide back an inch over the grass. She pushed back, then he brought his other dagger around, forcing her to arch her body to dodge. Seeing her give up her stance to avoid the cut, Zevran slid his other dagger against hers at an angle, promptly disarming her left arm and forcing her to bring up her blade for another block.

"Tell me again why they're doing this?" Alistair tilted his head to Leliana, who was sitting next to him, his eyes still watching the two fighting at the center of their camp. As he did, he absently scratched behind the ears of their hound, while Magnus lay lazily beside him.

Leliana smiled, her eyes also following their movements. "Everil just wants to widen her skillset."

He lifted a brow. "I still don't get it. I mean, of course I worry about her during battle. And I know she can be reckless sometimes, but she's still the strongest person I know."

"She is a leader, and it is also a leader's duty to understand her own strengths and weaknesses," Wynne said as she took a seat next to Leliana, seeking the warmth of the fire. Her kind eyes then returned to him. "Nearly losing someone she loves may also have something to do with it."

Alistair sighed, watching as Everil swung her sword sideways and Zevran ducked. She struck again and he sidestepped, dodging while swinging.

She easily deflected it.

Noticing something was off, Everil struck and their weapons locked.

She pushed against his blades, glaring at him. "Don't go easy on me, Zevran."

"Whatever are you talking about, my lady?" He askes with a mock hurt look.

"I can tell you're holding back! I'm a grown woman, I can take a hit!" She pulled back and swiftly slashed with her sword.

He struck up, knocked her sword out of her hand, and then landed a kick to her stomach, making her stumble back as all air left her lungs.

Alistair frowned, resisting the urge to reach out and ask if she was okay. He sometimes had to remind himself that although she had a smaller frame, she wasn't a delicate flower in constant need of protection. Which was something he found ridiculous considering how many battles he fought beside her.

"Fine. I'll be honest with you. You're slow," Zevran told her with a smirk.

"Damn it…" She breathed in frustration, her hand over her sore abs while she slowly straightened up her body, glancing to her dropped weapon. "Is it my sword's weight?"

"Maybe," He paused for a moment, seemingly pensive. "Hmm… I propose a test." He sheathed his blades and walked over to the pile of firewood they collected for the night. He bent over, picking up two sticks and facing her. "Let's do without the sharp edges."

"All right?" She shrugged and put away her dagger, catching the sticks he tossed at her.

"Shall we?" He readied his own, dropping into his usual stance.

Sten walked up to the campfire, standing a distance from the three still watching the friendly duel, folding his massive arms over his armored chest. In all their time traveling he had yet to witness something about the group that piqued his interest, though the female Warden had surprised him more than once before. Enough to earn his respect in some ways.

Everil kicked forth first, swinging her makeshift weapon at the elf. He easily dodged it, then swung his, forcing her to block. He swung with his other stick, again forcing her to block. When he went to kick her again, she jumped back, his foot narrowly missing her stomach.

This time it was he who advanced on her, slashing sideways. She blocked with one arm, then kicked down in an attempt to knock his feet off the ground. Reading it, he took a step back, avoiding the kick and bringing his weapon down on her. She gritted her teeth and quickly brought her arm up to block once more.

Everil swung her other stick, forcing him off her and pushing herself up. She swung again, Zevran struck up, deflecting her attack and following through with a hit of his own. She blocked, only this time his hit was strong enough to break her guard. Zevran kicked her feet off the ground, she fell on her back with a grunt, and suddenly he was upon her, pinning her down with his weapons at her throat.

Her chest heaved as she panted for breath, and then her shock melted into an irritated scowl, the heat in her eyes drawing a smirk out of him.

There it was. That defiant glare that made him want her so.

The sound of someone clearing their throat snapped him back to reality, making him turn his head to see Alistair's annoyed look, along with the bewildered stares of the rest of their companions.

He grinned at them and then willed himself to stand, offering her a hand.

"So it seems you're faster than me, after all," She told him as she took it and stood.

"That and your technique is different," He crossed his arms. "I am an assassin, my job is to kill the target as quickly as possible, hopefully without them noticing. We don't guard and wait for an opening. You, on the other hand, are constantly on the defensive."

"So what do you suggest?" She tossed her own sticks into the fire.

"Hmm…switch to offensive and drop the sword for a dagger. I must admit this is a risky technique when compared to yours, but once you get used to it you can become a deadlier opponent."

She walked over to her blade and picked it up. She looked down at it for a moment, a conflicted look crossing her features. The sword was all she had left of her family's aside from her name, it wasn't just any weapon to her.

"I guess it's becoming more of hassle for me to wield it. I shall switch for a dagger when we reach Orzammar. Dwarves are good at making weapons, after all." Her eyes then trailed back up to the elf. "Can we do this again next time we camp? I would like more practice before using this in battle."

Zevran smiled playfully. "Of course, my lady. I did enjoy the dance."

"Thank you." She sheathed the blade behind her back, the turned to Magnus. "Come boy, how about we take a bath before sleep?"

The hound barked and stood, leaving Alistair's side to follow its mistress towards the nearby lake.

 _Lucky dog._ Zevran thought with a sigh, eyes on her as she disappeared behind the foliage. He then shifted his gaze towards the group. "Why does she seem so attached to that blade?"

"It belonged to her father," Alistair uttered, poking the coals with a stick.

"Ah." Zevran took a seat by the fire, reaching out to warm his hands. "Is that why she joined the Grey Wardens? Because her family was murdered?"

"In… a way," Alistair replied with a guilty look.

Leliana leaned forward and looked up at Alistair, who was now finding the dirt particularly interesting. "You were there when it happened, weren't you?"

He nodded slowly. "And every time I think about it I wish I could have done something to stop it."

"You've done well in being there for her when she needed it most." Wynne smiled sadly at him. "And despite the bad memories, I think you two were fortunate to have found each other."

Alistair half smiled at her words. "Thanks…"

"That reminds me of a time when I killed this beautiful woman's abusive husband," Zevran bent a leg, resting his arm on his knee. "Needless to say it was love at first sight."

Alistair scoffed. "Are you sure it was love and not your urges talking?"

"I love all women, Warden. Which is why I enjoy pleasuring them and meeting their every need in bed." He smirked. "Perhaps I should give you a few tips."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, thanks."

"Returning to the previous topic," Leliana said with an uncomfortable smile. "Is Everil the last of her family?"

"We don't know." Alistair shook his head somberly. "We thought her older brother could have survived, but we haven't heard of him."

"Such a shame… The Couslands were one of the oldest families in Ferelden." Wynne sighed. "Arl Rendon Howe deserves to be punished for what he did."

"Oh he will be…" A cold look befell Alistair's features, his eyes darkening as he stabbed at the fire. "He and that bastard Loghain will get what's coming to them. I'll make sure of it."

xxxxxxx

Morrigan ran the wet rag down her bare arm, wiping off dirt and sweat from her pale skin. Her jet-black hair lay damp over her shoulders and down her chest, not quite covering enough of her breasts. She shivered involuntarily as a soft breeze blew against her, and she gazed up to the night sky, her amber eyes taking in the twinkling stars.

Movement coming from the tree line had her look towards the approaching figure, instinctively submerging her body further into the cool waters of the lake.

Everil paused half step. "Morrigan. I didn't know you were out here."

"Others need to wash up too, as you well know." Morrigan tilted her chin up, relaxing upon seeing whom it was. "Though some in our little party do not bathe as often as they should."

"Mind if I join you? I still have demon blood stuck to my hair," She said, walking closer to shore.

Morrigan shrugged. "Do what you will, I care not."

Everil smiled and began to work on unbuckling her armor.

Morrigan subtly watched her strip. It was interesting how much closer they had become. To her, modesty wasn't something that was necessary, a naked body was as natural as anything else around her. But there was a different sort of comfort when you trust enough to show your bare skin to another.

After she stripped, Everil picked up her armor, leaving her tunic and trousers on the ground as she bent over to wash the blood off the metal and leather.

Despite having only moonlight to see, Morrigan noticed the scar on her shoulder and the few red scratches marring her fair skin, like quiet medals of battles won. The light curved around the woman's firm muscles, emphasizing her strength as her arms moved to scrub her chest plate.

A body built for battle, stronger than hers, yet somehow still feminine.

"Did the elf teach you something? Or did he merely drool over you the entire time."

Everil looked up from her armor and smiled. "He did teach me something, actually. Zevran is not as callow as he appears."

Morrigan scoffed. "I must say your impression of our male companions is quite baffling."

The Warden let out a chuckle, and then set aside her clothes to dry. She entered the water, shivering as the cold liquid touched her skin. Her hound went in with a running jump, splashing water on her and drawing a squeal out of both women.

"You mangy beast!" Morrigan snapped irritably, rubbing water off her face.

"Sorry, Morrigan." Everil laughed and lowered her body into the water.

The witch huffed, glaring daggers at the dog as it swam past her.

Everil leaned back to wash her hair, scrubbing her scalp and using her fingers to untangle the knots forming at the ends of her chocolate locks.

"So…you and that idiot Alistair have become serious," Morrigan muttered, running the rag down her neck.

Everil felt a small smile tug at her lips, the night they spent together crossing her mind. "I suppose we have."

"I think the two of you are making a mistake."

Her smile faded, a puzzled look replacing it. "What? Why?"

Morrigan tilted up her head, regarding her with a critical look. "Love is a useless feeling... one that can blind you from making the right decisions or fool you into believing falsehoods. It can become a weakness that can be exploited by an enemy. I am surprised you did not think of that before."

Everil released a soft breath. "Love can also become a driving force, you know. It can motivate people to fight and die for those they care about."

Morrigan shook her head. "A fool's notion… just be certain you will not regret this later. I would hate to see you hurt because of it."

"Don't worry, Morrigan. I'll be fine." She reached back and drew her hair over her shoulder, running her fingers through it.

"Very well…" She smiled lightly, hopelessly shaking her head. "So long as you're happy."

The witch then stood, revealing her pale, naked body to the other woman. She walked towards shore while Everil saw her go, noticing how delicate her silhouette looked when compared to hers.

Morrigan dressed without another word and stepped towards her side of camp, leaving the Grey Warden alone in the lake. She couldn't find an explanation in her mind as to why she felt so disturbed by the relationship between the two Wardens, but it had become evident the night she heard the two sleeping together. As she made her way towards her side of camp she spotted Alistair and Leliana sitting by the fire, making idle conversation.

Sensing movement he looked up from the flames to where she now stood, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment. He sent her a nod of acknowledgement she didn't return, irritation rising up within her as she continued her trek to her personal camp at the edge of the clearing.

Alistair grinned to the nun. "Did you feel that cold breeze just now?"

Leliana hopelessly shook her head. "You two need to try and get along."

He chuckled. "You should try telling her that."

xxxxxxx

Upon finishing her bath Everil returned to camp, carrying her gear and only wearing her tunic, leather trousers and boots. She dropped off her equipment in her tent and then looked towards the campfire, noticing Leliana was now the only one sitting by it.

Biting her lip, she turned her head towards Alistair's tent, the urge to see him compelling her to go to it.

She glanced to Leliana one more time and then quietly crossed the distance from her tent to his, her hound walking behind her. She stopped just outside and knocked on the top pole, her heart beating faster as she waited for a response. She heard rustling from within, then a thud followed by a quiet curse, causing her to stifle a chuckle. The flap opened to reveal a lightly dressed Alistair, his armor gone, leaving only his white tunic and trousers.

A corner of his lip went up at the sight of her. "Hey..."

"Did I wake you?" She asked, tilting her head with a gentle smile.

"Uhm no… I was actually hoping you would stop by to wish me good night," He replied quietly, reaching out and gently taking her hand in his.

"You were waiting for me?"

"Yes..."

She laughed lightly. "What if I hadn't come?"

"Then I would've been very, very sad…" He uttered with a playful smile as he cupped her cheek, leaning down to softly kiss her lips.

After that kiss came another, and then another, as Alistair slowly led her inside. Meanwhile her hound remained outside, lying down by the tent.

As soon as the two found privacy their muted pecks deepened into a passionate kiss, her arms snaking over his shoulders and around his neck as his hands slid to her hips. She moaned softly, enjoying the taste of him while her tongue slowly danced with his.

Her hands then slowly slid down his chest then up under his shirt, her fingers caressing his bare skin and sending a shiver shooting up his spine. They pulled away for a brief moment as she took his shirt off, exposing his hard torso to her feather-like touch. He reclaimed her lips as he led her to the furs on the ground, gradually laying her down upon them.

His lips kisses their way down her chin and then her jaw. And she tilted hear head up with a sigh, allowing him better access to the sensitive spots on her neck. He placed hot kisses over her exposed skin, his hand reaching for the crisscrossed cord on her tunic. He kissed his way down to her collarbone, then her chest, pulling off the cord of her shirt to reveal more of her skin to his lips. He continued his way down until he knelt between her legs, leaning back to untie the string on her trousers.

She anxiously chewed on her bottom lip as he began to pull on her pants. "Alistair, w-wait… my boots will be in the way."

He glanced up at her, then down at her feet. "Oh… right."

Everil propped up on her elbows, giving him a tiny smile as he took her leg, his fingers undoing the buckles on her boot. "Sorry... Seems you have a little more work to do this time."

Alistair let out a low chuckle. "Worth the effort..."

He took off one of the boots, then worked on the other. As he did he noticed how small her feet were, and upon taking off the other boot he found that, despite the amount of walking they did at times, they were also soft and delicate. "You know, this may sound strange right now... but you have cute feet," He uttered before placing a soft kiss on her ankle, the gesture leaving a tingling feeling.

She laughed lightly, her heart racing at the loving look he was giving her. "I admit I've never heard a man tell me that before."

"What can I say? I like being original…" He said as he released her leg and took hold of her trousers, sliding them down and off of her. Cool air touched her bare skin, but it was what he did next that made her shudder.

He brushed his lips over her exposed stomach, his breath hot against her chilled skin. She lay back down with a moan, an aching sensation spreading up from between her legs as he descended further. He gazed up at her as his fingers untied the lace tying her underwear in place at each side of her hips. He then pulled off the thin cloth, uncovering her feminine parts.

Alistair swallowed and kissed her abdomen, then lower, his lips growing dangerously close.

"Alistair…?"

He kissed the top and she drew in a breath.

He slid his hands under her thighs and lifted them, making her further bend her knees. She instinctively tried to close them, but he kept them apart, gently spreading her legs to reveal her moist, rosy lips.

"Uhm..." She looked on with anticipation, feeling as if she had ran a mile, breathing heavily as her heart rammed against her chest.

He met her gaze, leaning down closer before he tentatively ran his tongue between her folds, the wet sensation gracing her g-spot and sending a sharp ache shooting up from her center.

She gasped, her body tensing as she watched him close his eyes.

He licked her again, and again, enjoying the sweet taste of her womanhood. And she moaned with each wet caress to her most sensitive point, the heat of his breath against her moist lips numbing her mind.

His mouth then enveloped her, a throaty groan escaping him as he suckled on her.

She whimpered, her head rolling back in ecstasy as a wave of pleasure washed over her.

Feeling her hips lift in response to his ministrations urged him further and he noisily suckled on her, focusing his tongue on her center.

"Oh Maker...!" She moaned and reached down, running her fingers through his hair. Everil gasped for air, the intensifying sensation blocking her ability to tell up from down as she felt her clit throbbing under each stroke of his tongue.

"Alistair…" She whispered breathlessly, straining to find her words. "If you… if you keep going... I will..."

His tongue slowed to a stop, his eyes opening to meet hers once more. With a small smile he licked his lips, the sight making her shiver. He then moved up to kiss her, drawing a muffled moan out of her as his tongue explored her mouth.

Alistair's hand went down to the string on his breeches, and before he knew it, he was on his back with Everil straddling him.

She hungrily devoured his lips, breathing heavily between kisses as she grinded her hips against him, whimpering as his pulsing bulge rubbed against her aching parts.

He released a deep groan, his hands grabbing her bare rear as the pressure within his trousers became nearly unbearable.

Everil strayed from his mouth, kissing her way down his jaw and neck as he moaned her name. She leaned up to help untie his pants, biting her bottom lip as she felt his erection twitch eagerly beneath its prison. Once untied, she pulled down the fabric just enough to release his hardened member, allowing it to stand at attention for her.

Her first task done, she leaned up, lifting her hips as her delicate fingers wrapped around his manhood, making him shudder as a breath caught in his throat. She lowered herself upon him, both releasing a drawn out moan as every inch of him filled her, his hard member penetrating her until he reached her top.

Everil slowly moved her hips, mewling as he began to slide in and out of her, the friction sending waves of pleasure up from deep within her. She brushed her lips over his while he moaned, his hands moving up from her thighs to her torso. Alistair then tugged gently on her tunic, trying to take it off completely.

She leaned back, still moving up and down as she helped him remove the piece of clothing. She then reached for the center of her bra, untying the knot between her breasts to discard it, leaving her completely bare for him to touch. Everil then placed her hands over his chiseled chest, gazing down at his lustful eyes as she continued to slowly ride his manhood.

"You're… so beautiful…" He whispered breathlessly before he reached up to cup her breasts, gently massaging them as she arched her back with a moan.

As the sensation slowly intensified, Everil moved a little faster, coming up only to come back down, enjoying every inch of his length as his hands slid down to take hold of her hips. He panted as he watched her breasts bounce with the motion, the friction numbing his mind. He began to thrust up then, meeting her each time she came down. The deeper penetration sent a jolt of electrifying sensation shooting up her body, making her stifle a cry.

Feeling herself unable to keep her voice down, she leaned down, pressing her lips to his for a passionate kiss. Taking the opportunity, he rolled them over and took control, thrusting into her as she moaned against his lips. Her arms wrapped around his back, her nails pressing against his skin as he continued to hit the sensitive spot within her.

He slightly pulled away to breathe heavily, one hand reaching up to gently stroke her scarred cheek with his thumb.

"I can't… keep my voice down any longer…" She whimpered helplessly, finding it difficult put thoughts into words.

"Then let them hear…" He breathed out huskily before he began to thrust harder, instantly taking away her restraint.

"Oh Maker!" She moaned as her head rolled back, and he leaned down to nuzzle her exposed neck.

"My name... Say my name," He commanded, his member sliding in and out faster, his him grinding against hers each time they met.

"Alistair!" She cried out, the blissful pleasure further intensifying as his member rammed mercilessly against her core.

"Again...say it..." He huffed into the crook of her neck as he pounded into her.

"Alistair!" She moaned loudly. She felt herself quickly approaching the edge. Her moist walls began to throb, the pressure around his manhood increasing and drawing a deep groan out of him.

Everil held onto him tightly, pressing her fingernails against his skin. The pleasurable pain of his stiff rod ramming into her soon became too much to bear and she came crashing down, screaming his name for all to hear. And he came with her with a cry of his own. His warm seed filled her womb, her womanhood hungrily taking in every drop as she shook with each intense wave rocking her body.

His movements grew slower, their moans filling the tent as the ripples of their climax washed over them, his member slowly sliding inside her soaked folds. He sought her lips and she breathlessly returned his gentle kisses, gently stroking his sweat streaked cheek with her quivering hand.

"That was… amazing…" She uttered numbly.

He kissed her again, their heavy breathing intertwining. "Glad to hear it..."

With a light grunt, he pulled out of her, rolling onto his back to lie next to her. She shifted to her side and rested her head on his shoulder, her hand upon his heaving chest.

"You know…" He let out a shaky sigh. "I think I'm…the luckiest man in Thedas."

She chuckled and gazed up at him. "Even… Even with the Blight?"

"Are you kidding?" He smiled and gently stroked her hair. "If there's anything I'm thankful for in all this... is meeting you."

"I feel the same way..." Everil nuzzled his neck, closing her eyes with a dreamy sigh as he continued absently brushing her hair with his fingers.

Ever since she lost her family she hadn't been able to feel truly happy, their deaths constantly looming over her. But with him she felt she could conquer anything and genuinely laugh again. When she moved to cuddle closer, she felt a drop of his seed slide out of her and down the back of her thigh, her full womb still tingling from the remaining echoes of their lovemaking.

The possibility of falling pregnant after their nights together suddenly crossed her mind, and yet despite how young their relationship was and their uncertain future, she found she didn't mind the idea. Her racing heart swelled at the thought, and she couldn't help but smile. For she would proudly carry his child along with the Cousland bloodline, regardless of his bloodline.

She released another sigh, exhaustion slowly taking over. "Good night..."

"Good night, my love," He whispered in return, a small smile on his lips as he lightly kissed the top of her forehead.

xxxxxxx

Loghain set his fork down on the empty plate and brought up the cloth napkin to wipe his mouth, his gaze focused on the decorative piece of armor on the far side of the room. Thoughts and memories drifted through his mind, distracting him from reality.

The situation in Ferelden was worsening, and his campaign against part of the nobility continued without the results he had anticipated. But if there was something he learned during his travels with Maric, it was that at times matters had to become worse before they could get better.

He turned his eyes to the dining hall doors as they opened and Anora entered, concern etched upon her features. Her soft purple dress flowed at her ankles as she walked, her shoulders stiff as her long blonde hair hung over them.

"Good morning, Father," She greeted with quiet irritation, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she took a seat across from him on the long banquet table.

"I see you remain upset." He leaned back on his chair, taking the chalice of wine and absently moving the liquid within in slow circles.

Her eyes glanced up at him before she delicately pinched a piece from the bread. "Yes. Perhaps because you have kindly decided to leave me out of all decisions made for Ferelden thus far."

He sighed. "The current state of affairs is something only military strategy can improve, Anora. You should trust my judgment and be patient."

"Your judgment killed my husband and has unleashed civil war during a Blight." She muttered. "You cannot fault me for doubting you, Father."

A scowl settled upon his brow. "How many times must I tell you Cailan was responsible for his own death? He never listened to anyone and was too engrossed in his fantasies to make competent decisions."

She sighed. "Regardless, Ferelden now has no king and no heir."

"Ferelden has you. Your leadership will bring back order once this crisis is over." He took a drink.

"Provided there is a land left to rule. You have yet to act on the Blight, while I continue to receive sobering news from the south." Her eyes focused on her food, but her tone told him her mood towards him was not improving.

"The darkspawn will be defeated in time. I have already begun taking measures."

She looked up from her plate. "What measures?"

"I have sent some of my men to Orzammar to help gather the help of the dwarves. They are an ally. We can use their aid to rid ourselves of this threat."

Anora frowned. "Are you certain of this? The dwarven military is small when compared to what is left of ours and that of the nobility. It doesn't seem possible that only their help will suffice."

"You worry too much."

"And you worry too little, Father." Anora sighed at his stubbornness. "Times have changed. It's no longer the Orelesians we should be concerned about. And yet you you would be willing to risk losing your country to the darkspawn due to your refusal to seek their aid."

Loghain's eyes darkened and he stood, drinking what was left of his wine before stepping towards her. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, before gently caressing her cheek as he began to walk away.

"Father."

He paused.

"Know that I shall not remain idle for much longer. I will do whatever it takes to take back the throne and my lands, even if I must eventually defy you."

Loghain glanced over his shoulder. "I know…"

She watched him walk away without another word, leaving her alone in the large room.

He continued his way down the hall, heading for the study where he knew Howe waited. He didn't much like the man, but he couldn't deny that he was more trustworthy than any of the other nobles currently taking arms against him.

He entered, and watched as the hawkish man turned his attention from the window over to him.

"Ah good morning, my lord."

"Good morning." He walked to the desk, taking a seat. "How are things in the field?"

"Several nobles have surrendered their support to us now. Soon the Bannorn will have no other choice but to join us."

He nodded. "Good… and the darkspawn?"

"They are crawling their way to Redcliffe. The numbers are... Significant."

Loghain scoffed. "People tend to exaggerate when fear clouds their judgment. A shame Eamon is in no shape to fight."

"Indeed," Hawe uttered with a quiet smile. "On a separate issue, my lord… The preparations to begin the trade of the alianage elves have been completed. Soon, the elves will no longer be a concern to you."

Loghain nodded, his hardened gaze looking away onto the map sprawled over his desk. And he found himself wondering what Maric would have done were he alive during these dark times.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter XIV

Everil dropped her bag on the ground with a sigh, then gazed up from her belongings to the snowy mountains towering ahead, the cold air blowing through her hair and coat. They had been traveling for days, and now they were close to their destination. She didn't know how receptive the dwarves would be to their visit, as she had never been to their territory before. But Aldous' teachings as a child taught her enough about their culture to hopefully convince them to help if they declined.

They were prideful people, reclusive in their ways. Only a few ever ventured out from underground, and those who remained in the surface rarely returned to their kingdom after having been cast out as outsiders.

Regardless, the treaties were all they needed. She only hoped the dwarves kept their word as well as their ancestors did during the past Blights.

"We should be arriving to Orzammar tomorrow."

Her head turned to Alistair, his eyes upon the mountains ahead.

She sighed. "I only hope we will have enough time to gather their support and help the arl."

Upon hearing the doubt in her voice he shifted his gaze down upon her, noticing the tension on her brow.

He leaned down for a brief kiss. "We will..."

He then turned around, and Everil watched him walk towards the middle of the clearing, where firewood was already gathered by them.

She felt a small smile tug at her lips, his confidence bringing up her spirits before she leaned over and picked up her camping equipment. She knelt down and began unraveling the tent, her hound taking a seat beside her as he watched. Then footsteps approaching made her glance over her shoulder to see Leliana heading towards her before stopping next to her with a smile.

"Would you like to join me for a hunt?"

Everil glanced up at her, returning her smile. "Sure. Let me finish this and we shall go."

xxxxxxx

The setting sun cast shadows over their path, turning the sky orange, yellow and pink. The two women walked through the woods, wielding bows and arrows as they scanned their surroundings for food. Magnus led them, sniffing the ground as he took sharp turns around bushes and trees.

"How fortunate Magnus is a good guide. Tracking is nearly not necessary," Leliana told her quietly, sending her a small smile.

"Yes." Everil returned her smile. "You know, that reminds me of the time I lost my way in the woods several years ago. Magnus was but a pup then."

"Truly? How old were you?"

"I was thirteen." She shook her head with a hopeless grin. "I was still new to the skills of a rogue, yet I had the bright idea to venture out on my own during a hunting trip with my family. I was lost for days."

Leliana gave her a sympathetic look. "Oh you poor thing! That must have been quite frightening."

"I actually did not mind it too much. I had my mabari pup keeping me company. Not to mention that when one is that young it is easy to have over confidence in your abilities... which is what got me in trouble in the first place."

"How did you find your way back?"

"Freya, Magnus' mother, was my father's mabari. She led him to where Magnus and I were," She said before letting out a chuckle. "I had strayed farther away from camp when trying to make my way back, therefore making it more difficult for them to find us."

"What a scare you must have given him," Leliana said as she giggled softly.

"Yes. I felt terrible when he found me. He was terribly worried." She smiled wistfully, recalling her father's warm embrace. "However, what made me feel worse was my mother's reaction at the news. Maker knows my father never heard the end of it since. "

Leliana's gaze softened. "You miss them, no?"

"I do..." Everil uttered somberly before a soft breath escaped her lips. "My apologies. It was not my intention to dampen the mood."

The nun shook her head, her red hair swaying with the motion. "I know they may not all be happy memories, but nevertheless, it makes me glad to know you feel comfortable enough to talk to me about them."

"Thank you." Everil smiled at her. "What about you? You speak of many legends in your songs around the campfire, but you must have had some interesting experiences of your own."

Leliana paused for a moment, and she couldn't tell if she was hesitating or thinking about which memory to discuss with her. Aside from the occasional reference to her once caretaker, the nun's past was practically still a mystery to her and the others. She told them much about Orleis, their fashion and politics, but she had never really discussed anything personal.

"I am afraid that aside from serving and playing music for the lady of the house, my childhood was not as exciting as yours." She lowered her bow and tapped her finger to her chin. "Hmm… I once accidentally poured varnish oil instead of honey in a noble's cup of tea."

Everil's brows went up and she let out a soft laugh. "That sounds like an interesting concoction. How did that happen?"

"I had been polishing the table prior to bringing the tray of tea. And she was the lady of a respected house in Orleis, making her attire so extravagant it was both distracting and fascinating," Leliana said, giggling at the memory. "I simply could not look away… As you well know, varnish oil and honey look similar, making them easily mistakable when using the corner of your eye and not paying attention."

Everil smiled. She half expected something a bit more recent, but perhaps Leliana was content with her privacy. "So did she drink it?"

"She took a sip and spat it out… on my face."

Everil laughed softly. "Aw! I hope you were not in too much trouble afterwards."

"She was obviously unhappy, but Lady Cecile calmed her. It had been but a few days after my mother died, so she used that to justify my lack of focus," Leliana said as she gazed up to the trees before letting out a giggle. "Still… it is needless to say I have not placed honey and varnish oil on the same table since."

The two chuckled, smiling at each other as they continued their trek through the woods.

"You seem so much happier lately… Alistair too," Leliana pointed out with a gentle smile.

"Morrigan mentioned that…though she was more worried than pleased about it. To put it lightly," Everil said with a soft smile of her own.

"Don't listen to her... I don't believe she understands." Leliana paused and gazed up to the sky, noticing the stars were beginning to poke out of the still orange background. "Even someone as strong as you needs another to make them smile once in a while. I am glad he makes you happy."

"Thank you, Leliana…"

The nun then turned her head to her. "By the way... I am curious... Is he good in bed?"

Everil chuckled at the unexpected question, heat tinting her cheeks pink. "He… is much better than I imagined."

Leliana gave her a teasing grin. "I figured he would be, considering the sounds coming from your tents each night. But I suppose a man as good looking as he must be experienced at it."

The Warden's smile widened. "One would think."

"Wait…" Leliana's brows shot up. "He was a virgin?"

"Yes… But I feel confident enough to say that his performance is not affected by that in the slightest," Everil told her with a wistful smile, twirling a strand of her wavy hair between her fingers.

"Ooh… So he's a natural lover and one not bedded by another before," Leliana nudged her arm with her elbow. "Lucky you."

Everil grinned at her. She had never spoken about sex to another woman, mostly because she never had that sort of relationship with anyone before now. Throughout her life, friends were picked out for her rather than made naturally through conversation.

The loud bark of her hound made the two look its way, readying their bows.

Magnus approached a rustle in the bush ahead and barked again, forcing out what was hiding within. It shot out like a bolt, their heads whipping to it as it ran, chased by the hound.

"Blast it!" Everil went after it, preparing an arrow while Leliana followed suit.

xxxxxxx

"Quit staring, you perverted elf."

"I'm simply admiring your beauty, Morrigan. I hadn't noticed it before," He grinned seductively at her. "Or… more like I was afraid of looking."

"Well you should be afraid, fool," Morrigan muttered moodily, tossing the herbs she previously gathered in a pile with the rest of their supplies.

Zevran folded his arms. "Why? You pretend to be cold, but I'm certain there is passion in you."

"You know nothing of me." She replied with a dark look.

"Oh come now. I'm sure a tough woman like yourself could make any man whimper in bed." He teased further.

"I can make you scream now, if you wish."

"Careful Zevran. She's not joking."

They turned their gaze to Alistair, who was sitting on a log by the fire. He poked the coals with a stick, adjusting them before tossing more wood in. He was usually the one working on their campfire, possibly because he found it calming.

"Your assistance is not required, Alistair," Morrigan said as she scowled at him.

"Who says I'm trying to help you?" He smiled up at her, aggravating her further. "I just think it would be inconvenient for us to lose one of our party members because of you."

"I appreciate your concern, Warden," Zevran muttered, sarcasm at the edge of his voice.

"Now, now all of you," Wynne gently chastised from her spot by her tent.

A bark in the distance drew their attention as a large turkey burst out from the edge of the woods, running towards them while being followed closely by their hound. The group turned their head as the bird ran through the camp in a panic, stumbling over cooking utensils and potion bottles. It let out a frightened squawk as Magnus jumped over the obstacles, opening its jaws as he neared its tail.

The bird then made a sharp turn, hysterically flapping its wings while making the hound slide over the grass.

Everil and Leliana stepped out of the woods just in time to see it run towards the large rock body standing in the turkey's path.

A giant slam then shook their camp, and suddenly it all fell silent.

Everil walked up to Shale, gazing down at the red mess of bone, feathers and blood now smearing the ground. She almost felt sorry for it. Her gaze shifted up to the golem. "Uhm... the idea was to have the bird for dinner tonight, but I suppose we can settle for bread and cheese instead."

Shale tilted her chin up arrogantly. "It's not my fault its hunting skills are terrible."

"Not terrible... Just not perfect," Everil replied with mild irritation. "You know, that was a little excessive. Why would you kill an animal like that?"

"I was frozen in place for decades in that little village. Unable to move or speak. I was but a statue in the town square while the villager lay down feed for the birds."

Everil let out a breath. "I don't see how that relates to crushing a living creature like this."

Shale bent over to her level, her glowing blue eyes narrowing as she menacingly met her gaze. "Had it ever stood in one place long enough for those wretched creatures to soil its person?"

Realization dawned upon her. "Oh..."

"I thought so." Shale leaned back up, the menacing glare turning into a condescending look.

To the golem's surprise, Everil grinned at her. "When we face the darkspawn, make sure you imagine them with giant chickens over their heads."

"Certainly," Shale uttered with mild amusement.

Giving the golem a smile, she turned to walk to the others. "All right everyone. At least waiting for dinner to cook is no longer necessary."

xxxxxxx

By the time they were done eating the sun had completely disappeared behind the horizon. Most of her group gathered around the fire, watching the next sparring session between her and Zevran. In the last couple of nights of practice she had significantly improved her offensive maneuvers. She had once been deemed one of the best fighters in Highever, which in the end probably limited her ability to expand her knowledge beyond what was taught to her by her father.

If only she could continue using his blade. That blade helped her remember who she was. She wanted to hold on to it, to use it to end the Blight as both a Grey Warden and a proud member of the Cousland family.

Everil ducked as Zevran struck sideways with the piece of wood in his hand, but instead of continuing on the defensive, she used the evasion to counter his attack. She kicked forth from her kneeling position to quickly strike his side with her wooden weapon, drawing a grunt out of him.

"Sorry," She muttered, but continued her assault, forcing him to step back and out of the way of another swing.

"Don't apologize. It won't happen again!" He replied with a diagonal swing of his arm. She leaned to the side, dodging the attack before using the same motion to twist around and down to kick at his feet. He back flipped to avoid it, then kicked forward, bringing his sticks down in a stabbing motion, only to hit air as she rolled out of the way. He smirked and kicked down, knocking her feet from beneath while she tried to stand. She fell on her back and he made to get on top of her. But he was forced to lean back when she kicked her feet up to roll backwards, her feet narrowly missing his jaw.

"Everil has quickly become more agile," Leliana commented with a smile, sitting between Alistair and Wynne with a half-eaten apple in her hand.

"I didn't think that would be possible," Alistair uttered, Everil's fluid motions nearly mystifying. He had seen her fight so many times he nearly forgot how well she could move and how fast she really was.

Zevran stabbed forth and she dodged, then in a blink of an eye she slid her arm under his and across his chest while her leg hooked behind his. Now it was Zevran's turn to be surprised. And his eyes widened as his body fell. He was slammed hard against the ground, her knee coming down to his chest, pinning him to the ground as her wooden weapon touched his neck.

From his spot by the fire, Sten grunted with an approving nod. "A fast learner."

Zevran smiled up at her, panting for breath. "See? The best defense is a good offense."

She returned the smile and stood, dropping her stick to offer him a hand. "Thank you, Zevran."

"My pleasure," He replied, taking her hand and letting her help him up. He didn't let go afterwards however, and instead brought her hand up to his lips. "Aren't you glad you let me tag along back in Denerim?"

She shook her head with a hopeless smile while gently pulling her hand away. "Maybe a little."

He grinned playfully in return.

Everil then turned to the others. "I think I have kept us up long enough. We should probably go to sleep soon so that we are well rested. The trek through the Frostback Mountains will probably be strenuous, but I would prefer it if from now on we avoid unnecessary stops until we reach Orzammar."

"I do not believe sleeping in the middle of the freezing snow would be much fun regardless," Wynne told her.

"Why not?" Alistair smiled at her. "We could all cuddle for warmth. Like one big happy family!"

Wynne let out a tired chuckle. "Now that would be a sight to behold."

Morrigan scoffed. "I would rather freeze to death."

Laliana smiled sweetly at her. "Oh, Morrigan. You don't mean that."

The witch rolled her eyes then turned on her heel to walk back to her corner of the clearing. Everil's gaze followed her, a small smile on her lips, noticing the subtle difference in the other woman's usual attitude. At least she had warmed up to them enough to visit their side of camp once in a while.

xxxxxxx

As expected, the higher they went, the colder it became as the heavy snow covered every slope and boulder. Everil licked her cool lips, her cheeks and nose flushed as the frigid air graced her skin, the blowing wind picking up her coat as she led the others up the steep path. Thankfully the dwarves were underground dwellers, living deep within the Frostback Mountains.

She knew a bit about their culture, though not enough to know what to expect. The dwarves were prideful and stubborn, often compared to the rock within which most lived. Not many of them lived in the surface, and those who did usually used their craftsmanship to become merchants, selling weapons and armor built by their own hand.

But they were not only known for their blacksmithing abilities, they were also known for their resilience in battle. They would become a powerful ally against the darkspawn, provided they honor the treaty.

"So we will be visiting the dwarves…"

Everil turned her head to Shale. "Yes."

"Hm. I don't remember much of how that place looked like. It has been so long."

"How long?"

"I have lived for nearly 800 years, but I could not tell it for certain. Memory begins to fade after so many years."

Everil's brows went up. "800 years..."

"800 incredibly boring years," The golem muttered with irritation as it walked beside her horse. "One can only witness so much before life becomes stale."

"I can imagine… I didn't know golems could live for so long."

"Golems are immortal. We can only... Die... if somehow destroyed. Which is difficult to do." Shale said with a hint of pride.

Everil didn't know if she should feel bad for her or impressed by the newfound knowledge.

"I suppose going back to Orzammar may just give me an idea as to what should be my new purpose. Perhaps even help me remember what it was I was doing before that mage found me."

After several more miles they finally arrived to the outskirts of Orzammar, where small shops with armor and weapons were set up around the square. Further up between the mountain walls were two sets of stairs leading up to a set of large, intricately designed iron gates that she assumed were the entrance to the city.

She slid off her horse and onto the snowy ground, the others following suit. With a tilt of her head to her group, she led them to the nearby stable, where a few other horses were tucked away out of the cold. The dwarf tending the animals approached them at the entrance, visibly counting their horses.

"It will be five sovereigns per night..." He began with a dry tone before his eyes landed on her chest plate, spotting the griffon. "A Grey Warden? I thought you were all dead in these parts."

"We don't die easily," She replied with a subtle smirk, reaching into the small pouch at her belt to pull out the bag of coins. Everil opened it, looking into it before lifting a brow to the dwarf. "And I was under the impression that Grey Wardens were considered honored warriors in Orzammar. You wouldn't happen to give a discount to special guests, now would you, good sir?"

The dwarve's red bushy brows came down to meet at the bridge of his plump nose. "Not unless the king himself says so, and he's dead."

Everil's eyes widened.

"What do you mean dead?" Alistair quietly voiced her question, standing next to her with a look that mirrored hers.

"Dead as in... Dead!" He huffed grumpily. "They say he died out of grief over the death of his sons. It's all everyone's talking about around here. Now hand over the coin unless you want your horses to freeze to death."

The prior shock quickly faded, Everil's expression hardening. "A discount or you lose your job."

"What?" The dwarf's brows shot up. "I already said no, human. There's no king to tell me what to do, so tough luck."

"All right, let me say it a different way." Everil folded her arms, eyeing the dwarf. "Drop the price or those left in power will hear that the stable master insulted King Endrin's memory by refusing the customary hospitality to one of Orzammar's longtime allies."

The dwarf's eyes narrowed dangerously, his nostrils flaring as his brain visibly mauled over her words. He let out a grunt and scratched his bearded chin. "Fine! 4 Sovereigns."

"2 sovereigns and 5 silvers."

The dwarf grumbled. "3 sovereigns and 5 silvers."

"3 sovereigns."

"Fine!" He extended his hand. "It's a deal. 3 sovereigns a night."

"Good man." She smiled sweetly, unfolding her arms and handing him over the coin "Here is three nights worth, in case we are delayed. I expect to find all my horses well fed and taken care of upon our return."

"Yeah, yeah..." He gruffly replied, pocketing the money. "Now just follow the line and pick a spot for them."

The group stepped into the stables, tugging their horses in. In one of the stalls, Everil reached up to take off her stallion's reigns, then smiled lightly as she gently petted his snout.

"The king's death will no doubt complicate things. I don't think they will agree to send their soldiers with us in this situation," She quietly told Alistair as they made their way down the rows of stalls.

"I was just thinking the same thing," He replied and then smiled at her. "But it will work out. You could always use your charms... Like you just did on that dwarf."

She chuckled. "I doubt I am _that_ good, but I suppose it's worth a shot."

xxxxxxx

Sten watched the snow slowly fall, his arms crossed over his broad chest. A hand on his arm made him turn his head down to the Warden, regarding her with the same stony gaze he always carried. It had been difficult to understand he now followed a human, especially a female. But she had managed to somehow gain a degree of his respect, at least enough to regard her as more than just a woman.

Despite the cold look, Everil smiled up at him. "I promised you we would get your sword back. Shall we look around now before we continue on?"

He was slightly surprised. There were obviously more pressing matters at hand, but she was willing take time to seek out something that was of no consequence to her, yet meant everything to him.

"Lead the way," He uttered.

She turned to the others still within the stable. "Can you guys please grab anything we might need from the stash around the horses? Sten and I have something we must do."

"Go on, my love. We'll be waiting for you at the gates." Alistair told her from beside his horse's stall.

Everil smiled tenderly at him. "Thank you, Alistair."

After the Warden and the Qunari disappeared around the corner of the stable doors, Leliana released a soft chuckle towards the other Warden.

Alistair gave her a questioning look. "What?"

"You two are adorable," She replied with a smile. "I like watching you."

He awkwardly reached up to scratch the back of his neck. "Uhm... thanks?"

"I happen to think they are utterly nauseating," Morrigan muttered, her nose curled in disust, her hands stashing lyrium potions in her cross body bag.

"Oh come on, Morrigan," Leliana pouted at her. "How could you think that? Surely you've been in love before."

The witch gave her an odd look and then she began to laugh in amusement, shaking her head and returning to her task as Leliana stared with a troubled frown.

Alistair folded his arms next to the former nun. "You obviously don't know her very well."

xxxxxxx

After looking around the square, Sten and Everil finally arrived to the last of the weapon shops. She absently wrapped her hooded cloak around herself, shivering involuntary as she eyed the items in display. They had asked the other shops about the sword, but they hadn't had answers. And she could tell easily they were not lying, for they seemed genuinely surprised upon seeing her towering friend.

This dwarf however didn't seem the least bit shocked, though he was obviously intimidated by the qunari's size.

"Looking for something in particular, Warden?" Asked the shop owner, who shifted uncomfortably under her scrutinizing stare.

"I am, in fact," She replied firmly. "My friend here lost his weapon a while back. Dwyn from Redcliffe told us you have it. Is this still true?"

He swallowed. "Dwyn? The sodded liar. Why would I want a sword that big?"

She chuckled as she crossed her arms. "I never said it was a sword."

He grumbled. "I... assumed."

"Come now. There is no point in hiding it any longer." She tilted her head, her smile widening.

The dwarf ran a hand over his chin. "If... I still had it… what would you offer in exchange?"

She tapped her index finger to her arm. "Hmm... Let's see... Does keeping the qunari from crushing you before all these people sound like a fair trade to you?"

He cleared his throat, glancing towards the large man's severe expression. "Point... taken."

He reached under his table, digging through whatever it was he had underneath before producing a large blade, heavily dropping it upon it.

Sten's eyes quickly widened, his arms unwrapping from his chest as he took a step towards it. Everil gazed up at him, watching him slowly reach towards it.

His fingers wrapped around the hilt and his muscles tensed as he lifted the familiar weight of the blade.

"I take it that is it?" She asked with a half-smile.

He brought it up to inspect it, noticing the familiar pattern on the hilt. For the first time in their long journey, Sten shifted his gaze down at her and smiled. "Yes."

"Perfect. Give me the one I gave you."

Sten nodded and did as she said, handing her over the blade he had been using up until now. She took it then turned to look at the dwarf before placing it on the table along with a few coins. "This should cover any expenses you incurred bringing the sword here."

"Thank you," The dwarf replied with a little surprise, picking up the coin from the counter. He realized then that her earlier talk had been to force him to reveal the sword and take away his ability to set a price, making the transaction completely on her terms. _Smart woman..._

Everil then gazed up to Sten. "Let us go meet with the others."

"Wait."

She paused mid step and craned her head up at the towering man. "Yes?"

Sten secured the blade behind his back, then stepped closer. "You have led me with honor and respect, when others would have no doubt exploited my situation. And now you have kept your word to me, something not many of your kind do. You returned Asala to me, restoring my life as a warrior and my honor as a qunari." He extended his hand, a gesture that was human in origin, but crossed the bridge between their kind. "Know that you have my respect and that I will fight for you and alongside you with pride, Kadan."

Everil gave his hand a firm shake, a small smile on her lips. "Thank you, Sten. I'm glad I was able to help."

They both then made their way towards the city gates, where from a distance she could see the rest of her group approaching, along with another group of men.

xxxxxxx

Alistair climbed up the steps towards the gates, followed by the remainder of their group. He eyed the three men currently talking with the guard, who were well armed for simple travelers.

"What do you mean the gates are closed?" One of the men on the other group snapped to the guard, his armored fingers curling into fists.

"The king is dead. We are not permitted to let outsiders in until a new king is chosen." The dwarf replied with a gruff voice, glaring up at the man.

"You don't understand. I am Imrek, messenger to the new King of Ferelden. I have come to deliver a message on King Loghain's behalf. It would be incredibly disrespectful of you to deny me entrance."

The two men turned their attention to Alistair and the others as they made their way to them.

The dwarf scowled. "More surfacers seeking to enter? Just what is it that's bringing you people here?"

Alistair gave the dwarf a subtle bow of his head, speaking firmly. "We're here on Grey Warden business. My friends and I—"

"Grey Wardens?" Imrek's eyes narrowed towards him. "You're the ones who killed King Cailan and now wander around slandering King Loghain's name!"

Alistair revealed his sword from under his hooded cloak, casually resting his hand on the hilt while regarding the man with a stern gaze. "We didn't kill King Cailan, Loghain did. But since you won't believe us, and we're not interested in fighting… How about you pretend we're not here in the same way you pretend Loghain is king?"

Zevran snickered behind him. "Ouch..."

"You…dare!" The man's threatening look deepened, his hand moving to his sword.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

They all shifted their gaze to Everil as she approached them from the opposite side to Alistair, her hair flowing with the mountain breeze as she climbed the steps.

"Another Warden?" One of the men uttered with a scowl.

"I didn't think they made them female Wardens that pretty," The other numbly muttered.

Imrek turned his glare to her. "I heard the female was the leader, and that she was the one who killed Teyrn Howe's men at The Pearl. How convenient you're all here."

Sensing the hostility in the air, the guard gruffly interjected. "All right, if you're all about to fight, take it off my steps. I don't want blood on the stone."

"It will not come to that," Everil calmly told the dwarf, then stopped just two steps from the messenger, completely unfazed by his threatening look. She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. "As you said, I single handedly killed three of Howe's knights in Denerim. In your case, however, you are outnumbered. So be smart and weigh your odds. We wish to avoid wasting energy fighting you after our long journey here."

She could see his hard gaze waver, but he stubbornly retained his posture. "No… I will eliminate all who oppose my king!" His eyes still trained on her, he made for his sword, but in a flash of silver her dagger was at his neck, her free hand on his wrist, keeping him from completely drawing the blade.

He froze in place, not daring to move as he gazed down at her sharp blue eyes. His eyes then slowly moved to Alistair, who had just as swiftly drawn his sword, pressing the tip against cheek just enough to draw a drop of blood. And the dangerous look upon the male Warden's eyes told him he made a huge mistake.

Meanwhile Sten had already pinned the other enemies with his greatsword, while Leliana aimed her arrows at them.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" Everil spoke evenly. "Walk away with your life or die here and now. Your choice."

He swallowed at her cold tone, realizing she was serious. "All right… We stand down."

"Good choice." She lowered her weapon, the others slowly doing the same.

"Let's go. We should report back to Denerim," He told his men, walking past them and down the steps. His two guards went after him, sending angry glances towards them.

The guard scoffed. "Well… at least I won't have any cleaning to do at the end of my shift."

She walked up to him. "We need to go inside."

He sighed. "Like I said. I'm not supposed to let any outsiders in until the issue with the crown is resolved."

"We need the help of the dwarves against the Blight and we have treaties that obligate you to provide it," She said firmly, standing her ground as she handed him the scroll.

He gruffly opened it, eyed the seal upon it and then rolled it up. "All right, this is the king's seal. You may come in."

"Thank you," She said with a smile before nodding to the others.

The guard opened the large doors for them and watched them walk in, mumbling something about stubborn women.

xxxxxxx

They entered through a large chamber, the massive statues of several dwarves holding weapons of their trait lining the walls. Dwarves didn't hold the same religion the people of Ferelden did. Instead of venerating the Maker and his earthly wife, they adored their ancestors as gods. Plaques that read paragon marked each statue, along with their names and details of their backgrounds. Paragons were considered to be living ancestors, treated in a similar manner as they would treat a god. Chosen for their extraordinary contributions to their society, their voices were considered of great significance, sometimes used to make decisions for the sake of their people.

Upon crossing the hall they opened the next doors to the city, and the size of it nearly taking her breath away. The rough sketches she had seen of the inside of the city did no justice to how large it was. Rivers of molten metal lit up the gigantic chamber, buildings of stone standing against the walls.

Distant arguing had them walking towards it to find two groups bickering ahead.

"The rightful King is Prince Bhelen!" One of the dwarves yelled, shoving another from the other group.

"That murderer has no business in the throne! Lord Harrowmont was handpicked by the king, he should be the one wearing the crown!"

"You dare disrespect our prince!" One of the dwarves lashed out with their axe, cutting down one from the other group.

Everil's eyes widened as blood splattered the stone floor, before a guard ran up to separate the two factions, pointing his own weapon at the shifting men.

"That's enough!"

Bhelen's supporters took a step back, pointing their weapons to their adversaries. "This isn't over Harrowmont!"

They watched them scatter, leaving the grumbling guard.

"Charming fellows, aren't they?" Zevran commented dryly.

The guard then turned his attention to the newcomers. "Grey Wardens? I thought all visitors were to be kept out of Orzammar until further notice… But I suppose you are all the exception."

She walked up to him. "Were those two the candidates for the crown? One of them is the Prince, why not let him inherit it?"

"You definitely just got here…" The guard replied with a sigh. "Things are not the same here as they are in the surface, in case you haven't noticed. We don't put so much weight on royal blood since our decisions are made by the people and the Assembly. This means anyone they choose can be king if they have their favor."

"Oh... I suppose it all makes sense now," Everil said, wondering why she hadn't remembered that part of dwarven culture.

"And another reason we didn't just give Bhelen the throne in a silver platter is because most think the king's sons were killed by him during an excursion into the deep roads. He of course claims he didn't kill them, but when your own father doesn't trust you with the crown…"

"I take it that's where Harrowmont comes in."

"He says the king picked him on his deathbed. I'm inclined to believe him, since he and the king were close friends." He shrugged and crossed his arms with a scowl "But that ain't my choice and at this point I don't care who gets the crown. I just hope the Assembly will sort this sodded problem out soon before those idiots turn my streets into a battleground."

"I see…" She frowned, taking in all the information she could. "So the Assembly would be the one to talk to regarding our request for help with the Blight?"

"I heard there was one… But I didn't think it was true. Yes, they would be the ones making that decision now. You can find them in the Diamond Quarter. That way." He pointed to the right. "But I have to warn you, Warden… I doubt they'll agree to it at the moment."

Everil released a soft breath. "Why is that? Isn't the Blight a threat to you, as well?"

The dwarf shrugged. "It is, but you have to understand that while you surfacers only have to fight them when they break out into the surface, we're constantly dealing with the darkspawn threat. A few more darkspawn attacking is not going to be something we would consider top priority."

"Great..." She turned to Alistair, who was standing beside her, listening to the conversation. "I suppose we will speak with the Assembly and see what our options are."

"Sounds like that's all we can do for now," He replied with a troubled look, then shifted his attention to the dwarf. "We might need room and board while we figure things out. Is there an inn around here?"

"Yes, you will come across it if you go that way." He said, pointing to the left.

"Got it. Thanks."

As they moved to walk away, the dwarf added. "And Wardens…"

Both turned to him.

"You may be Grey Wardens, but don't cause me any trouble. Laws still apply to you around here."

Everil smiled at the stern words. "Understood."

As they made their way through the city she could tell that the conflict between the two candidates was common knowledge, as the criers announced the murder of the same man they had just witnessed get killed.

Upon finding their inn and paying for their rooms Everil dropped off her things by her bed. Unlike outside, it was warm in Orzammar so she slid off her winter cloak and her cold weather gear. She had expected there would be hurdles in their task to get the dwarven support, but she hadn't thought the obstacle would be as big as it was. She knew her fair share about politics and how leaders managed their military, but getting a kingdom without a king to help against a nearly impossible task was something completely new and difficult.

A knock on her door snapped her out of her thoughts while Magnus lifted his ears in curiosity.

"Come in," She called as she knelt by her things.

Alistair opened the door, giving her a small smile. "Everyone dropped off their things. We can get going when you're ready."

"Ah good. Thank you." Everil rummaged through her bag, grabbing the treaty and a couple of items they might need if trouble were to come up. As she did he stepped in, silently watching her get ready.

She gazed up from her bag, glancing towards her hound and then to him. "I think just the three of us will do for now. The others can remain here and rest. No sense on all of us being tired."

"I guess that's a good idea," He looked around the room, taking in the dwarven runes and objects decorating the walls. "Hey… I just noticed we all have our own rooms this time."

"Yes," She said and then stood to walk up to him. "We could afford it thanks to Teagan's additional help in our last visit to Redcliffe… and my great coin management abilities."

He looked at her with a teasing smile as he gently took her hand in his. "Are you sure? Those few silvers a night for my room may have been a bit wasteful."

"Is that so…" She uttered with a knowing smile, her eyes meeting his loving gaze.

He leaned down to brush his lips over hers, gently cupping her cheek with his other hand. "Yes… I think we should get the coin back on our way out. I wouldn't want for us to need it and not have it later."

She leaned into his touch. "And where will you stay, exactly?"

"I'll go sleep with the horses."

She laughed. "Really? I think you're only trying to find an excuse to sneak into my room."

He let out a chuckle of his own. "Aw… you got me. And here I thought my master plan was flawless."

"You're not as subtle as you think." She softly kissed his lips.

"Can't blame me for trying." He replied quietly before pressing his lips to hers, wrapping his arms around her waist as he deepened the kiss.

Everil let out a soft moan against his lips, her arms snaking over his shoulders, her fingers trailing up to his hair. Her heart began to race again as their tongues danced in an agonizing pace, passionately twirling against each other. She felt his hands slowly make their way down her back, then down to grab onto her leather-bound backside. She whimpered, his firm grip drawing that familiar yearning between her legs.

She reluctantly pulled back, breathing heavily while struggling to calm her racing heart. "Alistair…"

"Yes…?" He whispered and leaned his forehead against hers.

"We should… go get the coin back."

A corner of his lips went up. "Just lead the way..."

xxxxxxx

Everil, her hound and Alistair made their way through the city towards were they were told the Assembly was located. When they entered they were greeted by one of the Assembly members. The old dwarf who led them into the room where they were all gathering to discuss the election of the next king.

She stood cross armed by the entrance of the room, witnessing the heated arguments between the Assembly members before a recess was called, their bickering solving nothing and leaving the decision up in the air until further notice.

"Our apologies, Wardens… it seems you have come at an inopportune time." The old dwarf told them, looking up at them with an apologetic gaze.

"No kidding…" Alistair replied with a dry tone.

"At this point whatever matter you have will have to wait until a new king is crowned. I am sorry," The dwarf said before he walked away, leaving them standing in the Assembly hall.

Everil shook her head irritably and then turned to her fellow Warden. "We can't simply give up. There must be someone here we can approach for help with the Blight."

"But who?" He replied with a troubled frown, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Quite the problem you have there, Wardens. Perhaps I can help."

Their eyes shifted to a dwarf casually leaning against a nearby wall, running a hand over his voluptuous dark beard. Now that he had their attention, he pushed himself off his resting position, walking up to them.

"And you are…" Everil prompted with a scrutinizing look.

"Dulin Forender, Lord Harrowmont's top lieutenant. A pleasure Wardens." He offered his hand for a handshake.

She shook it, then Alistair did the same.

She had the feeling that meeting him out here was no accident. "So… you mentioned you could help us?"

He folded his arms behind his back, gazing up at them. "Lord Harrowmont heard of your predicament and he believes you can both benefit from an arrangement."

Alistair lifted a brow to the dwarf. "If your lord thinks we can help him, why isn't he asking us himself?"

"As you have no doubt noticed in your short time here, it has become quite dangerous for his lordship to meet personally with anyone who has not properly earned his trust. I hope you can understand that."

Everil frowned. "I suppose we will have to... What does he propose we do?"

"A Proving will be held tonight, where some of the best fighters in Orzammar will participate. He wishes for you to fight in his name and demonstrate your loyalty to him before meeting with you in person."

"Fight in his name…" She echoed, folding her arms. "Before we consider doing this… Why should we support Lord Harrowmont over the prince?"

Dulin ran a hand over his thick beard, his other arm remaining at his back. "You saw Bhelen when you came into the city… he is a hot headed, self-important fool. His own father denied him the right to the throne, bringing forth his best friend as his chosen successor. That should tell you enough about why my lord is the best choice."

She and Alistair exchanged a glance. This was no ordinary choice they were making. They were about to help crown a new king, one that would rule over Orzammar and its people for generations.

She looked down at the dwarf, hiding her doubts behind resolute eyes. "Can you give us a moment?"

Dulin nodded. "Of course."

She motioned for her fellow Warden to follow, taking a few steps to the side.

"Grey Wardens are supposed to be neutral. We're not supposed to go around choosing kings and meddling in politics," Alistair began vehemently.

"I know… But we don't have much of a choice in this case. We still need their help against the Blight."

He let out a frustrated breath. "Have I ever told you how much I hate making big decisions?"

"You said once that Grey Wardens are also known for breaking all rules when desperate times called for it," She continued, and the unwavering look in her eyes confirmed she had made her choice.

"Well we are pretty desperate…" He gave her a half smile. "All right then… Guess we'll just have to hope this Lord Harrowmont keeps his word after we're done."

"He will. I will make sure of it," She replied, giving him a pat on the arm before turning to walk back to the candidate's representative.

Alistair watched the two talk and shake hands one more time to seal the deal. He didn't like going against Duncan's teachings, but he also knew his mentor would have likely done the same in their shoes.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter XV

The single ring of a bell resonated throughout Orzammar, signaling the beginning of the night. Still, the streets were as lively as before. People stood by the criers, listening to the latest updates on the election of their new king, while others made their way to the arena, where the Proving was to take place.

Everil adjusted her newly acquired dagger, having left her family sword at the inn after returning to pick up some of their peers. Any fight could go awry, even one that was supposedly moderated. Therefore having additional arms ready was necessary.

"Finally changing weapons?" Zevran asked her as they left the nearest blacksmith's shop, along with Morrigan and Alistair.

She nodded. "Yes. I figured if we will be fighting soon, I might as well prepare for it. It does feel strange not to have the extra weight on my back, however."

"I'm sure you won't miss it… Well aside from its emotional significance, that is," He uttered with a sympathetic smile.

"I'll keep the sword, of course. I still need it for something… Important." She gazed ahead, her eyes growing distant as the picture of her deceased family crossed her mind.

"I see." He frowned at the murderous glint in her eyes, finding that sometimes instead of finding it attractive it actually made him nervous.

"Is no one else questioning that we are on our way to influence the political process of an entire kingdom?" Morrigan voiced with a critical tone, walking just a few steps behind Everil.

Alistair sent her an annoyed look. "We don't have any more options."

"Why not just leave? We are wasting precious time playing this game. Were I the one leading, we would have defeated the Blight by now." Morrigan griped with a look that mirrored his.

Alistair dramatically smacked his palm against his forehead. "Of course! What were we thinking? We should've just left _all_ the important decisions and _all_ the talking to you. Someone who's almost never left the Wilds from the start. How foolish of us!"

She pinned him with a dark gaze. "I happen to have better speech etiquette than you, Alistair."

He glared at her. "Fine, I admit I'm not the best at talking. But at least I don't shrink away from a simple handshake like some... crazy person."

Morrigan rolled her eyes, wondering why she even bothered having any type of conversation with such an infuriating man.

They neared the building, walking through the crowd as the people filtered in through the large metal doors. Dulin awaited them at the center of the hall preceding the arena, an older man standing next to him with his arms folded over his chest.

"Good to see you again, Wardens," Dulin began with a nod of his head, then gestured to the other dwarf. "This is the Proving Master. He will brief you on what is involved and inform you each time a match begins. There are two others supporting us who will fight alongside you at one point, so expect to meet them soon."

Everil nodded. "Got it."

Dulin shook their hands one more time, a solemn look in his eye. "Remember Lord Harrowmont will be watching, and so will I. Good luck." With that he walked away towards a room across from where they stood, leaving them with the other dwarf.

The Proving Master then gazed up to them. "All right. I don't know if you were told, but only one of you can participate in the Proving at this time. So who will it be?"

"I will do it."

Alistair's head snapped to Everil. "Wait… You won't even ask for my opinion on this one?"

She smiled innocently up at him. "I am the leader, you know."

"You're pretty quick to bring that up every time you want to have your way." He muttered hopelessly.

"Yes." She snickered playfully. "Because I can."

"Very well." The Proving Master held up a scroll and a quilt, interrupting their banter. "What's your name, Warden?"

"Everil Cousland."

"Understood. I will notify you once the matches begin. In the meantime, be ready. I will be back shortly to call upon you. Your companions will have to watch from the stands over there." He used the quilt to point left towards the nearby door, through which some of the citizens were walking through, and then made his way in the same direction Dulin had previously.

Zevran patted Everil's shoulder. "Remember what we practiced, now."

"Yes, yes. I know." She replied with a smile.

Zevran and Morrigan then began to head towards the spectator area, leaving a hesitating Alistair behind.

He stepped towards her. "Be careful in there."

She gave him a reassuring grin. "You know I don't go down easily."

"Yes. I know. But I can still worry." He whined with a subtle pout.

She chuckled, then tilted her head towards Zevran and an irritated Morrigan, who were both waiting for him by the doors. "I'll be fine. Now go join the others before the good seats are taken."

"Fine..." He leaned down for a quick kiss and then made his way towards their companions, ignoring Zevrans teasing grin as they entered the stands.

The three of them climbed up the stone steps towards the seats, walking through the row closest to the arena. And although there were open seats, they settled for standing over the stone railing, gazing down towards the soon-to-be battle ground.

"Oi... You one of the Grey Wardens?"

Alistair looked down towards the gruff voice to see a redheaded dwarf with a thick mustache was gazing back up at him, a pint of ale in one hand.

"I am..." He replied with a raised brow.

"How many of ya' are there?"

"Uhm... There's two of us," He replied, puzzled by the question.

"Just two?" He raised his bushy brows high, then scrunched up his flushed face in concentration. "Hrm..."

Seeing the odd look the Warden was giving him, the dwarf's expression lit up into a drunken grin, extending his hand for a handshake. "Ah where are my sodding manners? Name's Oghren. Heard one of ya will be fighting in the Proving tonight, so I just had to watch."

"Alistair." He shook his hand, still finding the conversation rather strange.

"Good to make your acquaintance!" The dwarf laughed and then took a drawn out drink from his ale. "You people are said to be some tough sons of bitches. I can't wait for it to start."

Alistair shifted uncomfortably next to the dwarf, watching him pour himself another pint from a nearby barrel, one of many set up in different sections of the room.

Oghren then turned to him once more. "Want one?"

He lifted a hand. "No, thanks..."

"Suit yourself." He shrugged and took another long gulp before burping loudly. The then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Guess they're as unrefined as the rock they live in," Zevran commented to Alistair with an awkward smile.

The beating sound of a large drum then resonated throughout the arena, and the Proving Master walked out towards the platform overseeing the field. His booming voice then silenced the cheering crowd. "Welcome to tonight's Proving! Where the best warriors in Orzammar demonstrate their might!"

"Yes! It's starting!" Oghren said excitedly and took a drink, accidentally spilling ale over himself.

The Proving Master continued. "On this night we shall witness the battle between champions supporting those who seek the throne to our kingdom! Prince Bhelen and Lord Harrowmont!"

The crowd cheered.

"Now! For the first battle...! On this side, Prince Bhelen's first Champion! Seweryn! The man who defeated his own Father at the age of twelve and has been victorious in many of our past Provings!" The Proving Master pointed a finger to the doors on the right side of the arena and, as if releasing a pack of lions, the iron cage slid up, revealing a heavily armored dwarf. The crowd cheered, chanting the man's name and stomping their feet to the beat of the battle drums playing for the fighters.

He then pointed to the left side. "And on this side we have a special participant! Fighting in Lord Harrowmont's name...!"

The gates opened, and Everil calmly stepped out, gazing forth to her opponent with quiet confidence as the room became silent.

"From the famed Grey Wardens, Everil Cousland!"

The crowd erupted into cheers, some banging their empty pints against the nearest surface.

"Ancestor's balls... A woman?" Oghren's puzzled gaze shifted up to Alistair. "I had no idea you people recruited women."

"Well we do, and she's our leader too," Alistair responded, a corner of his lips going up as he gazed towards his fellow Warden.

Everil slowly made her way to the center of the arena, stopping over a mark on the dirt as the other fighter did the same.

"Didn't think my first opponent would be a woman, but I know of many who can put down a Bronco," Seweryn told her with his chin held high, drawing his blade and shield. "Show me what you've got, Warden."

She smiled, drawing her daggers. "Likewise."

The Proving Master raised a hand and the room grew quiet once more. "Let the match begin!" The Proving Master called out, swinging down his hand.

Seweryn readied his shield and began to walk to the side, his hard gaze focused on her as she did the same, sizing him up. The dwarf charged first, letting out a cry with his sword raised high. Everil waited for him as he came to her, and then he swung. She swiftly leaned back to dodge it, then stepped back, avoiding the blade as he swung back around. He quickly used his shield, trying to hit her with it, but she jumped forth, a hand on his shield as she used it to nimbly propel herself into a forward flip. She landed behind him and swung a dagger as she whirled around, trying to get him from behind.

He narrowly blocked it with his blade, pushing against it as he turned to face her. "Good moves you got!"

"Thanks!" She grinned and pulled back.

He attacked again, slashing the air as she dodged each of his attacks. He slashed up to her chest, she leaned back again. He then tried to get her legs, she jumped back into a backflip. He brought his blade down as she landed, she rolled to the side. He continued to strike, attempting to land a hit, and she could tell he was growing more impatient each time he failed. But while he probably thought she was mocking him, her real intention was to find an opening through his shield and armor.

And she did.

He slashed up, she docked, swiftly kicking forth and bringing a leg around underneath him. She took out his legs, making him fall heavily onto his back, and before he knew it, she was on top of him, blade at his neck.

"What..." He gazed up at her, his eyes wide as saucers with shock.

Some gasps were heard in the room, and the Proving Master raised both arms. "The winner of this match! The Grey Warden!"

The crowd cheered.

Oghren laughed, rising his pint as if making a toast. "Impressive shit right there!"

Alistair and his companions glanced to him as the dwarf took another gulp of his ale, Morrigan giving the man a disgusted grimace.

Still shaken, Seweryn stood and sheathed his weapons. She did the same, and with an acknowledging nod of their heads, she watched him walk out of the arena through the same gates as before.

"Let the battles continue!"

She gazed up to the Proving Master and returned to the mark on the ground, crossing her arms over her chest as she patiently waited for him to announce her next opponent.

"The next two champions representing Prince Bhelen!"

The gates began to open again and two dwarves stepped into the arena, one female and one male.

The Proving Master continued. "They battle as one and live as one! The twins Lucjan and Myaja!"

The crowd cheered as the siblings made their way towards the marks, one a warrior and the other a duelist rogue.

"Two of them…?" Alistair frowned, resting his hands over the railing. "That's not a fair fight."

"They were born from the same womb and claim to share the same soul," Oghren uttered as they watched the siblings make their way to the mark. "Guess that makes them an exception to the one on one rule. Sodding cheaters."

"She can handle it," Zevran said with a confident smirk.

The twins stopped at the mark, and the crowd grew quiet.

"May the stone honor you…" Myaja began with a snide smile, drawing her blade and shield.

"When you fall." Lucjan finished, pulling out his daggers.

Everil's sharp gaze did not waver despite the slight disadvantage she now faced. "May the dirt taste good when I feed it to you," She said coolly, unfolding her arms and drawing her daggers.

The signal from the Proving Master then came and the twins wasted no time charging at her.

Everil dodged Myaja's sword, then was forced to jump back to avoid Lucjan's dagger. She took several steps back, trying to avoid another set of synchronized attacks by the twins. Despite their different fighting styles, the two moved in unison, each attack flowing with the other.

Everil rolled out of the way of another slash from Myaja, and was forced to block both daggers from her brother while still on her knee.

Movement behind him made her head snap up to see Myaja jump up and over his shoulder, leading with a kick. It all happened so quickly she could only react. Everil leaned back to dodge the hit, but the dwarf's armored boot still connected with the corner of lips, her teeth piercing the inside of her cheek as she went with the hit, rolling to the side.

She pushed herself up and winced, leaning over to spit blood upon the dirt as the two dwarves laughed.

"Ooh! They got her that time!" Oghren grinned then took a drink.

"Bastards..." Alistair muttered, his jaw tense in irritation.

Myaja arrogantly snickered at the Warden. "Shame… you have such a pretty face."

With a look that could freeze the molten rivers of Orzammar, Everil wiped another drop of blood trickling down from her broken lip. "Celebrate while you can. You will not touch me again."

"We'll see about that." Lucjan dropped back down to his fighting stance.

Both dwarves attacked again as she continued to dodge their attacks, and Everil realized then that the best way to beat them was to break their pattern.

She dodged another slash from Myaja as she sheathed one of her daggers, then used her now free hand to grab onto her wrist, preventing her from following through with her next attack. She bought herself enough time to kick back at his brother's face, breaking his nose as he fell onto his back.

Myaja growled and whirled around, releasing herself from her hold and proceeding to unleash another string of attacks. Everil avoided her sideward slash, then ducked, kicking at the back of her leg. The dwarf cried out and fell on a knee, blindly slashing sideways. Everil ducked low, then sliced up at the unprotected area between her arm plating and her chest plate. Myaja cried out in pain, dropping her sword before Everil kicked at her chest, knocking her on her back as she squirmed.

"Myaja!" Lucjan charged with his daggers ready.

He swung with one blade and then the other; she blocked both attacks with her own weapons. He struck a third time and she moved to the side just enough for him to miss before she then used his forward movement to knee him in the gut. He dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. She wasted no time, bringing down the pummel of one of her weapons and striking him across the face so hard he whirled around onto the ground, instantly out cold.

"The winner is the Grey Warden!"

The crowd erupted once more, chanting her name and title.

"Woo! There was some bloodshed on this one. Let's keep 'em going!" Oghren called out and then gazed up to Alistair with a wide grin. "Your boss lady's pretty good! I can see now why she's the one calling the shots."

Alistair gave him a brief smile.

Her chest slightly heaving, Everil gazed up to the crowd, wondering who her next opponent would be. Once the previous champions were cleared from the arena, she once again stood upon the mark.

"We have one more opponent before the recess time!" The Proving Master pointed towards the gates again. "She cut her own tongue to emulate Paragon Astyth the Grey! And she is now fighting in the name of Prince Bhelen as a member of the Silent Sisters! Sister Hanashan!"

They watched the gates open and a heavily armored female warrior stepped into the arena, carrying a great sword strapped to her back.

"Cut off her own tongue in the name of some long dead Paragon… a little extreme, no?" Zevran muttered in amusement.

"Dwarves certainly have an interesting fascination with their dead," Morrigan said with mild amusement.

Hanasha stood upon her mark, casting a stony look upon the Warden. Everil gave her a single nod of acknowledgement, her expression nearly mirroring that of her new opponent.

The two then drew their weapons.

"Begin!"

Hanasha swiftly brought down her sword, forcing Everil to jump sideways to dodge as the massive blade hit the ground, sending dirt and rocks flying in all directions. She then dragged her blade over the dirt towards the Warden, then up in an upward swing. Everil back flipped, the edge narrowly missing her feet. The warrior then quickly followed through with a downward strike, forcing her to bring up her blades for a block.

Everil gritted her teeth as their weapons collided, the force and weight of the clash resonating through her arms. Hanasha gazed down at her blankly and began to put more force into her weapon, putting more pressure on her. Everil pushed up just enough to give herself room to roll to the side, Hanasha's blade slamming to the ground once more.

The Warden quickly stood and rushed forward, slashing at her with one of her daggers. Hanasha blocked with one armored arm, then swung her sword with the other. Everil deflected her hit.

Everil dashed forth and jumped, avoiding the horizontal strike from the dwarf's sword and using her shoulder to boost herself forward into a flip. She landed firmly on her feet, and as Hanasha twisted her body to face her, Everil brought her dagger around.

Both froze.

A thin red line appeared on Hanasha's neck, a drop of blood sliding down as Everil's blade barely pierced her skin. But the pressure was there, and she knew that if the Warden so wanted it, her blood would have been painting the dirt.

"The winner is the Grey Warden!"

The crowd cheered once more, slamming their pints against the rock.

The Proving Master continued. "The first matches have ended with every victory going to Lord Harrowmont's champion, Grey Warden Everil! Remain in the room for the matches coming up after the recess!"

Panting lightly, Everil sheathed her weapon, giving Hanasha a half smile. "Good fight."

Hanasha nodded her head to her, a nearly imperceptible lift at the corner of her lips.

The gates at both sides opened, and both made their way out of the arena.

xxxxxxx

Everil let out a breath as she stepped out into the hall, wiping the sweat from her brow. Darkspawn fought well in numbers, but their individual tactics were primitive and predictable, while fighting against a skilled, seasoned fighter was completely different and more tasking. Especially when dwarves were renowned for their physical prowess and expert abilities. Their entire culture revolved on pride, the honoring of ancestors and their caste, pushing each dwarf to be the best at their individual traits. That she was able to win all matches thus far was considered more than just an accomplishment, one even she could say she was proud of.

Hearing footsteps coming towards her, she turned her head in their direction.

"I was wondering if they were ever going to give you a breather," Alistair called as he made his way towards her, followed by the others.

"I admit I was wondering that myself." She attempted to smile, wincing at the sharp pain it caused.

He approached her with a concerned look, gently tilting her chin up to take a closer look at the bruises. "They hit you pretty hard…"

"Well it certainly felt that way." She attempted a chuckle, the uninjured side of her lips tilting up.

"Allow me to take a look at it." Morrigan produced a potion and a clean rag from her bag, pouring the red liquid on it as she stepped towards her. Everil turned to her, letting her dab the red liquid on her injuries as the pain slowly numbed away.

"Thank you, Morrigan," She uttered quietly.

The woman's bright yellow gaze switched from her lips to her eyes. "You are welcome."

"Good work down there, Warden. Lord Harrowmont was quite impressed," Dulin said as he walked up to them, clasping his hand s behind his back. "I'm afraid I bring bad news, however."

"What is it?" She raised a hand to Morrigan, turning her full attention to Dulin.

"The two champions who also supported Lord Harrowmont have unexpectedly dropped from the Proving."

Everil's brow furrowed. "Do you know why?"

Dulin shook his head. "No, but we think Prince Bhelen is responsible for it. The last match involves multiple champions on each side. With our fighters gone, you would have to face Bhelen's men on your own. Not an easy task."

"Can we participate instead?" Alistair promptly asked, disliking the idea of her being outnumbered again.

"You can. You simply have to inform the Proving Master before the next match begins."

"Thank you for telling us about this," Everil said to Dulin.

"Of course. It would not do if you lost. So let's keep up the good work." He gave her a single firm nod, then pause as he made his way back to the other side of the room. "One more thing. After this is over, meet me at the tavern in the Commons. We will discuss matters there."

"How very honorable of them… trying to cheat their way through," Morrigan uttered moodily, folding her arms over her chest.

"When has there ever been honesty in politics?" Zevran asked with a sideward grin.

"True enough."

xxxxxxx

"This feels better." Alistair told her as the two made their way down through the tunnel towards the arena.

"What does?" She asked as she glanced towards him.

"Fighting with you instead of just watching from the sidelines. Not a big fan of that."

She smiled at him. "Why? Because you were missing out on all the fun?"

"That and beating up angry short people before a crowd of drunken short people has been one of my dreams for a long time."

"Really now… How come you never told me?"

He gave her a lopsided smile. "You never asked."

She chuckled and hopelessly shook her.

They could hear the drums once more, and then the booming voice of the Proving Master reached their ears.

"On this side, fighting in the name of Lord Harrowmont the ongoing winner of tonight's Proving and her comrade in arms! Grey Wardens Everil and Alistair!"

Once the gates opened they crossed the distance to the center of the arena as the crowd cheered.

"Ah so he's fighting on this one. Even better." Oghren uttered to himself before taking a long gulp of ale.

"And on this side! Fighting in the name of Prince Bhelen! A member of the House of Ivo and master of arms! Known for using a different weapon in every Proving! Wojech Ivo and his chosen partner Velanz!"

The two dwarves walked over to their side of the arena: Wojech being a warrior, heavily armored and carrying a shield and long sword while Velanz was a rogue with dual daggers. "Prince Bhelen will plant his throne on your trampled corpse." Wojech said gruffly, his glaring eyes staring at them through the slits of his heavy helmet.

"We shall see about that," Everil replied coolly, drawing her blades while Alistair drew his own weapons.

The Proving Master raised a hand, then brought it down. "Begin!"

Wojech raised his blade to engage Everil, but Alistair stepped between them, blocking the attack with his sword.

"Sorry, but I'll be your opponent, not her," Alistair said as he smiled down him, knowing he was the heavy hitter and more likely to break through the dwarf's armor.

"I'll take the other one!" Everil charged towards Velanz, readying her blades as the dwarf prepared his.

Alistair shoved the dwarf's sword aside and then struck down, forcing him to use his shield to block with a grunt. Wojech pushed against his sword and struck sideways, Alistair hopped back to dodge, then sidestepped to avoid another strike. He then brought his shield around, hitting the dwarf's head and knocking his helmet off.

"You bloody maggot!" Wojech grumbled dizzily before charging towards him, crying out as he readied his sword.

"Aw you're angry? But I did you a favor!" Alistair taunted as they locked blades, smirking down at him. "You really shouldn't hide that majestic beard of yours."

"Shut up!" He bit out through gritted his teeth, his arm shaking as he pushed against him.

Alistair then overpowered him, forcing his sword to the side before swiftly slicing upwards, cutting through the chain mail protecting the gap in the middle of his arm. Wojech grunted, the injury deep enough for the grip on his weapon to loosen. Alistair then struck at his sword, sending it flying off his hand and away from his reach.

Wojech's eyes then widened in shock as the cold tip of the Warden's sword slid through his beard to touch his adam's apple, the man's grip steady as the stone.

"Yield. You lost." Alistair uttered, the prior humor in his tone completely gone.

The dwarf gave him a severe look in return, but dropped his shield nonetheless.

Meanwhile Everil's fight didn't last long either. She rolled to the side as the rogue attacked head on, then had fluidly kicked forward towards his back, striking at his shoulders from behind. Blood sprayed as he dropped his weapons, unable to lift his arms any longer as he fell with a whine.

"The winners are the Grey Wardens!"

The crowd roared, lifting their ale up high.

Oghren watched in quiet stupor as the two Wardens took down their opponents with ease, making the champions in the Proving look like anything but. Then a smirk slowly spread upon his drunken features. For he knew that despite there only being two, they had what it would take to help him.

xxxxxxx

As directed by Dulin, the group made their way towards the tavern, where he awaited for them inside. The place was slightly dark, lit by torches and candles. Merry music played in the background, a sharp contrast to the usually gruff attitude of every dwarf in Orzammar. In the distance some dwarves danced while others clapped, pausing just long enough to drink their ale.

Dulin waved at them from one of the tables, and Everil led them towards him while looking around the room, noticing the curious glances they were receiving.

"Good work out there tonight!" He said over the music, motioning for them to take a seat. "I thought we could celebrate while we talk."

"I take it Lord Harrowmont is pleased?" Everil inquired as they sat, speaking just loud enough for him and her companions to hear.

"More than pleased. He has invited you to visit his household in the morn," He replied as he waved one of the barmaids to their table.

Everil leaned forward, resting her elbows on the edge of the table. "What should we expect in that meeting tomorrow?"

"He'll discuss with you what he needs in order to win and send you on some… errands in his name. Just know that the election is far from over and we will need your ongoing support to get things done."

"It almost sounds like he's about to send us to kill someone," Alistair said next to Everil, lifting a brow at the dwarf.

Dulin let out a laugh. "If he did, it wouldn't be someone who didn't deserve it. Let's leave it at that for now."

"Oh… all right. Because that makes it all better," He muttered.

"Don't worry, Warden. You can still decline his offer once you talk to him. Though I would not recommend it. Considering Prince Bhelen already saw you fighting on our side," Dulin said and took a drink while the barmaid placed more pints before them.

Alistair gave him an irritated look in response.

"I suppose we will have to wait and see," Everil uttered, gazing down at the amber liquid swirling in her cup.

"That's right!" Dulin elbowed her arm with an uncharacteristic grin, his cheeks flaring from inebriation. "Enjoy tonight. Drinks are on me. You deserve it."

She shrugged and lifted the cup, while Alistair and Zevran did the same. Morrigan ignored the ale, looking around the room with a bored expression while resting her chin on her hand.

Suddenly Zevran slammed his cup down, extending an arm to stop both Wardens. "Wait!"

Alistair lowered his drink with a frown. "What—?"

A thud on the table beside him made everyone turn their heads to Everil, their eyes wide upon seeing her head face down upon the table.

Zevran smiled helplessly. "Too late…"

"H-hey!" Panicking, Alistair wrapped an arm around her shoulders, shaking her lightly.

She responded by mumbling words he couldn't understand.

"What did you do to her!" He demanded angrily, but the dwarf only laughed.

"Nothing! Your friend just had our ale. The best dwarven ale Orzammar has to offer!"

Alistair's angry look turned into a bewildered one. "So she's…?"

"Ow…" Everil whimpered numbly, slowly lifting her head from the table and placing a hand against her forehead. She then let out a sigh, pouting her lips moodily.

"Drunk," Morrigan completed for him, mildly amused by the sight of her red cheeks.

"More than drunk." Zevran grinned, leaning back on his chair while folding his arms.

"Dwarven ale is the strongest there is. Not even a grown, burly man can handle it."

Alistair glared at him. "And you just now tell us about this?"

The elf shrugged a shoulder, the grin still on his face. "I tried to warn you."

Everil pushed herself up, drawing the attention of everyone on the table. She gave them a strange look, trying to see through the fog blurring the colors in her line of vision before stumbling backwards. Alistair quickly reacted, reaching out and wrapping his arms around her waist to keep her from falling.

"Everil?" He called, gazing down at her worriedly.

"Hrm… there's a genlock… in my tent…" Everil muttered, her head hanging as her hair hid her face from the others. "Magnus… fetch…"

Alistair couldn't help but chuckle. "I guess the party's already over..."

He adjusted her now limp body, lifting her up into his arms before giving Dulin a stern look. "Tell Harrowmont we'll be there. And thanks for the ale."

He nodded. "Of course, Warden."

Alistair then shifted his gaze to the others. "Let's go. I think we all deserve some rest."

"I couldn't agree more," Zevran replied as he stretched and stifled a yawn, walking behind him while Morrigan quietly followed.

Dulin watched the group leave the tavern and let out a throaty chuckle, shaking his head. "Beat every champion in the Proving, instantly defeated by a single drink of ale. Such a curious woman."

xxxxxxx

Thankfully the trip from the tavern to the inn was relatively short. Upon arriving, they split up, each heading towards their own room. Zevran made his usual snarky remarks about the two Wardens sleeping together while Morrigan had simply gone her way without a word. The rest seemed to already be asleep, something he expected considering their long trip and the late time of the night in which the Proving ended.

Alistair opened the door and was greeted by Everil's hound. It whined up at him and anxiously followed him as he carried her barely conscious form to the bed.

"Don't worry, she's fine," Alistair uttered quietly to the concerned dog, not wanting to wake her.

Magnus merely sniffed the air, sitting by the bed as he watched the man gently lay his mistress upon it.

Alistair gave her a quick glance and removed his armor first, unclasping the heavy metal portions and removing his coat and chainmail. He set everything down, leaving only his trousers on for modesty's sake. He then sat at the edge of the bed to help her remove her gear as she slept, reaching down to unbuckle the straps on her chest plate and removing it along with her weapons. He then proceeded to unbutton her leather coat before slowly sitting her up in an attempt to remove it. As he did her arms wrapped around his neck, preventing him from taking it off all the way, leaving it hanging loosely around her arms.

"Alistair…?" He heard her whimper as she nuzzled his neck.

"Yes, dear?" He uttered with a small smile, his hands upon her waist.

"Make love to me..." She whispered against his skin, her hot breath gracing his skin.

He gulped, her plea bringing forth an almost overwhelming urge to comply with her request. But he steeled himself, his hands sliding up to her shoulders to gently separate her from him. "Not tonight, Everil."

"Why?" She whined stubbornly.

Alistair smiled helplessly at her, taking in the sight of her pouting lips and flushed cheeks as her large blue eyes gazed up at him, reminding him of a kid whose playtime had been denied.

"Because you're drunk and we're both exhausted," He finally replied.

She ran her index finger down his chiseled chest, teasingly biting her bottom lip. Her touch left goose bumps in its wake, making him draw in a breath when she went down to trace his hard abs.

She gazed up at him through her lashes. "So?"

He cleared his throat and gently took her hand in his, attempting a stern look despite his racing heart. "So we need to sleep… Now let me help you with your armor."

"Fine…" She muttered with a pitiful sigh at his response, trying to glare at him but failing when she yawned in the process. Everil obediently allowed him take off the rest of her coat and her cargo bags, watching as he placed them on a chair next to the bed. He then reached down to help her with her boots, his fingers unbuckling the straps.

She silently focused on him with eyes half-closed, trying to ignore how the room slightly swam around her.

"I don't understand... I usually get my way." She muttered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

His eyes widened a fraction as they went up to meet hers, her words making him pause. He let out a throaty chuckle and returned to his task, taking off one of her boots. "You sound like a spoiled child…"

"Well I was one..." She admitted playfully.

"Obviously," He said with a smile and leaned up, taking off her other boot as she drunkenly giggled. He then pulled up the sheets, covering her legs before he made his way to his side of the bed.

She pouted at him as he lied down. "Can't I change your mind…?"

"Not a chance." He rolled onto his side to face her, and then reached out to wrap an arm around her belly, carefully making her lay back down.

With a dejected expression she obliged, flopping down and turning her body to her side to face him as she cuddled closer. She closed her eyes and almost instantly drifted into sleep, her body completely relaxing against his as he held her close.

Alistair quietly listened to her steady breathing, leaning back to trace her delicate features with his gaze.

His eyes softened at how vulnerable she appeared, completely at the mercy of everything around her. The sudden urge to protect her tugged at his chest, something that felt completely out of place considering their duty as Grey Wardens.

"Maker, how I love her..." He murmured, reaching up to tenderly tuck a strand of brown hair behind her ear. He would do anything for this woman.

A subtle frown creased his brow when Everil released a soft whimper, her face scrunching up as her nightmares began to creep up on her. If only he could make the bad dreams fade away. For both of them.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter XVI

Following the passing of time in Orzammar was difficult, and it wasn't only because the sky was not visible, but also because dwarves were active regardless of what time it was. The resounding bell of the morning echoed throughout the inside of the mountain, announcing the beginning of a new day to those within it. Which was a sound she didn't quite welcome at the moment.

Everil winced as the ringing pierced her head, making her utter a curse.

"Someone had a bit too much fun last night," Zevran teased as he walked near her, grinning down at the helpless look she gave him.

"I wish you would've warned us about the ale before we entered the tavern," Everil muttered tiredly, walking ahead of their group. She had decided to take the same teammates as before, since they were the ones Lord Harrowmont had likely seen with her last. There was no way she would risk shaking the dwarven lord's delicate, and hard earned trust.

"I didn't think you were a drinker," Zevran said as he casually laced his fingers behind his head.

"I'm not. I was just attempting to appeal to Dulin," She said and then let out a sigh. "But instead, I managed to embarrass myself before the top lieutenant of perhaps the future King of Orzammar."

"Oh don't be so hard on yourself. If anything, I believe you earned his respect. You handled dwarven ale far better than most."

"That's because Grey Wardens don't get drunk easily." Alistair interjected, then gave Everil a lopsided smile. "It would take a great deal of normal ale to get you as drunk as you were, and you would be sober within a few hours."

"Is that the reason why you Grey Wardens make your own liquor?" Zevran asked curiously as he raised a brow. "I heard your order makes some of the best, but you have to be a Warden to drink it."

"Yes. We have to make our own since the normal stuff doesn't work well on us," Alistair replied before his eyes shifted back to her. "Though it seems nothing we make is as strong as what you had."

"Can we please change the subject?" Everil mumbled with a frown, a hand on her forehead in an attempt to stop the throbbing.

"You'll feel better soon." Alistair gently patted her shoulder with a sympathetic smile.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching at a quick pace had them turn towards a group of well-armed dwarves approaching them.

"How dare you go against our Prince!" One of them shouted as they broke into a run, raising their weapons above their heads.

Morrigan scowled, wording a quick chant that blocked their path with fire. The dwarves stalled, surprised by the sudden use of magic.

"They have a mage!" Another one called.

Everil, Alistair and Zevran drew their blades, advancing towards them as Morrigan's flames dimmed down.

Everil brought down her blades upon them, grunting as one deflected them with his axe. She twisted her body in time to dodge his counter attack and used his slower movement to her advantage, her arm shooting forth and stopping just as her blade touched his neck.

"Stop this now or we will be forced to kill you," She warned, glaring down at him as the dwarf met her gaze with a matching expression.

"I would die proudly for my Prince, surfacer!" He cried out, reaching for his axe.

Everil slashed his throat, cutting it open as his blood sprayed upon the stone ground.

One by one the group of Bhelen supporters dropped as they were cut down by her and her companions, their blood pooling upon the ground while the people around them stopped to watch. As soon as it was over, guards ran down to where they stood, looking at the carnage while glancing their way as they sheathed their weapons.

One of them faced them and folded his arms. "Who started it?"

"They did. And you can ask the people standing around us. They will say the same," Everil responded with a firm tone. "Now if you'll excuse us, we have much to do."

With that, the Warden turned around to continue their walk while her companions followed her. The guard didn't stop them, shifting his attention back to the bodies as his comrades began to clean up the area. He then gazed towards the spectators, waving an arm at them. "All right. Keep on walking, all of you."

xxxxxxx

Dulin had been waiting for them when they arrived to the lord's estate, a large home built into the walls of the mountain. The place was decorated lavishly, with metals and jewels accentuating every piece of furniture. The man already lived as if he were a king, now it remained to be seen if he had the qualities required to be one.

Dulin led them to a study, illuminated by a chimney at the far side and next to which an old dwarf stood with his hands clasped behind his back. Sensing their presence, he turned around, casting kind eyes upon them. "Welcome to my homestead, Grey Wardens." Lord Harrowmont greeted before Dulin could announce them, then nodded his head to him.

Dulin respectfully put his fist to his chest and left the room, leaving the four with his lord.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Lord Harrowmont." Everil replied, tilting her head to him in a greeting of her own.

"I appreciate your patience thus far. I hope you can understand why we had to be cautious before our meeting." He motioned for them to take a seat on the smaller chairs across from him.

"We understand. We ran into Prince Bhelen's supporters on the way here. We were forced to defend ourselves against them… So to speak." Everil accepted the offer, while Alistair remained standing beside her, folding his arms over his chest while Morrigan and Zevran watched the conversation nearby.

Harrowmont sat on his large leather chair and leaned back with a grave expression. "It's unfortunate you had to soil your hands in this matter, my lady. But I wish I could tell you it won't happen again."

"Are you still referring to them or is there something more?" She replied with a small smile, casually crossing her legs and resting her hands over her lap.

He ran his fingers down his white mustache with a sigh. "Have you ever heard of the Carta?"

"I can't say I have, no."

"They are a network of criminals, ran by dwarves, who involve themselves in the smuggling of goods such as lyrium, stolen items and even slaves. They have business relations across many countries, Ferelden included." He shifted his gaze to the fire, narrowing his eyes. "Truly despicable people."

"Are they becoming involved in Orzammar's politics?"

"In a way." He returned his gaze to her. "There is a Carta group creating trouble across many of our businesses, threatening our shop owners and asking for coin in exchange for protection. It has become a serious problem for our people." His wise gaze then hardened into a scowl. "Jarvia is their leader. Taking her out, along with her Carta will show the people that I can offer immediate solutions to our problems."

"And you want for us to do the work for you," Alistair said quietly.

Harrowmont pressed his lips together and nodded.

"What are we? Errand boys?" Morrigan muttered with distaste for the situation.

"I see no problem with it," Zevran shrugged with a bored expression.

"Says the man who was originally hired to kill the Grey Wardens."

Everil shushed them, shooting them a glare at their rudeness and effectively silencing the two. She then returned her attention to Harrowmond and gave him a firm look. "Very well… If it will help you win the crown, then we shall do this for you. However, there is something I want before we go." She rose from her seat and took a step towards him, gazing down at him with an unwavering stare. "You must give me your word that once this is over you will give us your armies to fight the Blight. I want no excuses."

His widened eyes stared up at her, suddenly finding her youthful appearance deceiving. She was certainly someone not to be trifled with.

He slowly stood, offering her his hand. "You have my word, Warden."

Her stern expression melted into a soft smile, her hand shaking his. "Good. Do you have any suggestions on where to begin searching for this Jarvia?"

He nodded. "Ask around the shops and in the Markets. You are bound to run into information there."

"Understood. We will return with news when it is done," She said as she turned on her heel to begin walking back the way they came, the others following behind her.

xxxxxxx

The market area of Orzammar was bustling with activity. Jewel stands glimmered with hand crafted necklaces, bracelets and other trinkets made out of stones farmed right out of the mountain. Armor shops and weapon stands showcased their inventory, also created from the very iron and silverite mined from within the kingdom.

Despite asking around half of the shops they still had no clues, but she wasn't fooled by the feigned ignorance of the shop keepers. They had shifted uncomfortably at their questions, their eyes looking around the area in fear. But she was persistent; they were bound to find what they were looking for sooner or later.

"My lady, I think I just found something," Zevran said next to her, a hand on her shoulder to get her attention.

She frowned. "What is it?"

He tilted his head towards a building in the distance. "A group of well-equipped men just went into that shop. They all wore similar armor. It gave me a bad feeling and usually that means trouble."

"All right, then let's investigate."

The four made their way to the modest looking shop, approaching the wooden door. Already gruff voices could be heard from within, along with the clattering of objects falling to the floor. Everil scowled and promptly opened the door, stepping into what was happening inside.

Those within paused when they entered, turning their heads to them. One of the dwarves held the shopkeeper by the front of his tunic, his weapon pointed at his throat while the others had been observing from their positions by the door.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we have some trading to do with the man there," Everil told them, casting a stony look at the one currently threatening the shop owner.

"Don't you see we're busy?" The ruffian replied, glaring back at her. "Figor here hasn't paid his protection fees. Everyone around here knows what happens when you don't pay. Now unless you want to be next on my list, get out."

She took a step towards him. The other dwarves in his group reached for their weapons. Alistair and Zevran swiftly drew theirs, pointing their blades at them. She continued approaching him without looking back, knowing her companions would have her back.

"I'm a Grey Warden. Your threats don't face me." She tilted her chin up, looking down at him as if he were nothing but dirt under her boot. "Now put down your weapon and step away from that man. Otherwise, I promise you will not leave here alive."

"Roggar… What do we do?" One of the dwarves by the door muttered towards him, glowering at Alistair.

"Heh…" Roggar smirked and shoved Figor down to the floor, turning to face her while resting his axe upon his shoulder. "You talk big, but you're still an outsider. You obviously don't know the power of the Carta."

She narrowed her eyes. "You work for Jarvia."

"That's right. I know you Wardens are supporting Harrowmont. The old bastard has been making things more difficult for us lately. I even heard he's been looking for her." He raised his axe, pointing it at her. "Is that why you're sniffing around here? The Carta won't appreciate you messing with our business."

"I'm surprised you were able to put two and two together. I assumed you were but a little monkey, swinging your weapon about in an attempt to appear tough and brave." She replied, a cynical smile spreading on her lips.

His brows went up, taken aback by her mocking words before they came back down to meet at the bridge off his nose, his mouth forming a snarl. "You want to see tough?"

He swung down at her, she leaned to the side to dodge, letting his heavy weapon hit the floor and lodge itself in the stone. She then put her boot down on it, preventing him from pulling it out as she brought back her fist. She struck him as hard as she could, her fist connecting with his face, forcing him to let go of his weapons while knocking him back onto his rear.

"Roggar!" One of his men called and made to help. But the cold steel of a blade on his kept him from moving forward, making him freeze on the spot.

Zevran clicked his tongue in a chastising manner, shacking his head. "Now, now… You want to keep your head, don't you?"

Everil stepped up to Roggar as he spit blood, and she dropped on a knee, grabbing him by the front of his armor.

Her piercing blue eyes met his, her tone dangerously low. "Where do we find Jarvia?"

"I won't tell you, wench!" He snapped through a bloodied mouth.

"Wrong answer." She drew one of her daggers to press the tip to his chin. "I shall have you know that if I don't get what I want out of you, I can always take it from one of your friends after you're dead. Now choose your next words carefully."

"All right, fine!" He snapped, gritting his teeth. "Our base is in Dust Town, the slums of Orzammar."

"What else can you tell me?" She pressed further.

"What more do you want!" He tried to shove at her, only for her blade to penetrate his skin, making him yelp.

"Your base will not simply be out in the open. Harrowmont's men would have found it by now," She said evenly, her nose almost touching his plump one. "Give me details."

"Y-you'll have to look for a peculiar door without a knob, in one of the slum houses, in the square! You'll need a special token to get in."

"Who has that token? Where can we find it?"

He swallowed, his jaw tensing, conflict crossing his eyes.

She pressed the knife further. "I do not have all day, Roggar."

He gulped. "Y-you can have mine."

He reached into his armor and pulled a chain. She swiftly took hold of it, snapping it from his neck.

Having what she needed, she stood. "We are done here. Get out and don't come back. If I ever see you or your friends around here again, I shall run you through."

Roggar stumbled as he stood, rushing to the exit while leaving his weapon behind.

Morrigan stepped aside to let the cowering dwarves through the door, smirking as they went.

"Geez… Remind me not to ever make you angry," Alistair uttered as he approached his fellow Warden, sheathing his blade.

"People who prey on the weak sicken me. I would have killed them, but that would have made me like them," She replied with a scowl, lifting the chain up to look at the token. It was the bones of a finger, which meant this once belonged to one of their victims. "Bastards…" She muttered with disgust before turning her attention to the still shaken shopkeeper on the floor.

"Are you all right?" She asked as she put away the chain in one of her pockets, then offered the man hand to help him stand.

"Yes. Th-thank you. I thought I was a goner." He dusted himself and gazed up at her. "If you want to trade for anything in my store, I will give you the best discount I can afford. You just let me know what you need."

She smiled, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "Thank you, we will keep that in mind."

After nodding to the dwarf, she craned her head to her companions, walking towards the door. "Come. Let us pay the Carta a little visit."

xxxxxxx

Dust Town was just as the name implied. A place filled with ruins, huts that were worn and crumbling, brown dirt and rock covering every nook and cranny. Dwarves slept on the streets or sat beside them, asking for coin as they passed them by. It was a sad sight, and she found herself wondering why they were living in such conditions when the dwarves in the Commons above were fairing so well.

"This must be were all the castless go," Zevran commented quietly.

Everil sighed with a sympathetic expression. "How terrible…"

"What classifies them as castless?" Alistair asked them with a curious frown.

"Dwarves who were cast away by their families, and their caste, for whatever reason," Everil replied with a sad sigh. "Castes break down into… different skills or traits, if you will. For example, there is a Merchant's Cast, and a Warrior's Cast… etcetera –each one regarded higher than the other depending on how large their contribution to their society. Each dwarf is born into a caste, inheriting whichever caste their parent of the same sex belongs to." She shifted her gaze up to him. "If a dwarf is shun by their caste, or is born castless, then they contribute nothing in the eyes of the dwarven people, and as such they are not part of their society. Therefore, they are not even considered a person."

"Woah…" Alistair scratched the back of his head. "That sounds… rough."

"Dwarves appear to be quite extreme when it comes to their collective believes," Morrigan added to their conversation, shaking her head. "However, they seem to have a fair enough system where anyone can reach their full potential if they were to play their cards right. These poor idiots were just the unlucky few who lost at their own game."

"But casting these people away like this… It's wrong." Alistair shook his head as they passed by a woman holding a crying baby, gazing up at them with desperation in her eyes.

"Every country has those they oppress or ignore. Ferelden is no different. Or have you forgotten the elves in the Denerim alienage? The fools who choose to live in the shadow of their human overlords and are treated as dirt by those of noble birth," Morrigan told him as they continued walking, crossing the broken, dusty path through the ruins.

Alistair's eyes turned to the ground. "No..."

Everil gave Morrigan a troubled look. "I suppose I'm glad my family treated elves with dignity… though they were still just servants at the castle."

"The privileged do not see the struggles of the poor until they have lived it for themselves. You two are good examples of this," Morrigan said with a bored look on her face. "Though 'tis only survival of the fittest. Nature's way of things. They would likely do the same if the roles were reversed."

Moments later they arrived to the center of Dust Town, where they noticed several small houses circling the square. More homeless dwarves sat on the dirt, casting fearful eyes upon them.

"Split up and find a door without a knob," Everil commanded quietly.

After walking door to door, it was Zevran who found it. "Over here!"

"Perfect." Everil walked up to the door, pulling the token out of her pocket.

She looked over the door, spotting a rounded slot in it. She reached up to insert the token in it, a click reaching her ears. "All right… by what we heard the Carta is a large organization. We don't know how many of them we will face inside, but our goal is to kill Jarvia," Everil turned to face them with a no nonsense expression. "We will focus on finding her and kill anyone who gets in our way as quickly as possible. Once we are done, we will hurry out and report it to Harrowmont. No unnecessary risks. Understood?"

They nodded their agreement and proceeded to step inside.

xxxxxxx

The house they entered had actually been built around a cave, hiding away the intricate passages that were barely lit by torches. The distant sound of water dripping down echoed into their ears, the muggy air making it slightly more difficult to breathe. These caves were obviously around for a long time, and if the Carta possessed as great an influence as Harrowmont had mentioned, then she assumed their hideout possibly connected with other places in Orzammar.

They had yet to run into members of the Carta, but she assumed they already knew they were coming and were likely waiting for them further out in the caves.

"'Tis awfully quiet for a lair full of criminals," Morrigan pointed out, suspiciously looking around. "This does not sit well with me."

"Good thing we have you to set them on fire when they do show up. We could use the additional light." Everil grinned at her from over her shoulder.

Morrigan smiled back. "Indeed."

Suddenly a flicker in the distance drew their attention to a single dwarf holding a torch and a crossbow. Immediately Everil had a bad feeling about it, but before she could voice her thoughts the dwarf dropped the torch and took aim, firing a bolt their way. They had to duck to avoid being hit, the dark making it difficult to see the bolt's actual trajectory. The bolt hit a spot behind them, exploding into a cloud of smoke and making them all cough.

As the dwarf reloaded his crossbow, Alistair and Zevran pushed themselves up, drawings their weapons as they charged.

"Wait!" Everil called out through coughs just before a clicking sound made them all freeze in place. Suddenly the floor below Morrigan and Everil opened, swallowing them both as they let out surprised cries.

"Everil!" Alistair ran back as the floor closed, effectively separating him and Zevran from the two women. He frantically looked for a lever or anything that would reopen it, but found none.

"Damn it!" He bit out and whirled around at the sound of another bolt being fired. This time he swung his sword, knocking it off the air just in time to see Zevran reach the dwarf, running him through with both daggers to his chest.

With an irritated breath, Alistair sheathed his blade while walking to the elf.

"What just happened?" Zevran uttered in puzzlement.

"They wished to separate us and got what they wanted," Alistair replied, walking past him. "Come on, we should find them quickly."

Zevran watched him go, and for some reason he found himself wondering if something in the man had changed. Before he didn't seem that confident in his ability to take charge of things, but now it seemed he didn't seem to think twice before telling them what to do. He shrugged and began walking behind him.

He would follow his orders, at least for her sake.

xxxxxxx

Everil felt herself falling, then landed on her back with a huff. Morrigan's body came down after her, landing upon her and instantly knocking the air out of her.

"Oh! My apologies." Morrigan quickly removed herself from her companion, giving her an apologetic glance.

"You're… forgiven," She replied as she sat up, an arm across her stomach as she struggled to regain her ability to breathe.

Morrigan looked up to the hole through which they fell and then gazed around to see they were in another passage, this one with a door ahead. "It appears 'tis only us now."

"They split us up… Ugh I knew they were ready for us." Everil slowly stood, scanning the area for trouble or more traps.

"This was all a mistake. We should have left and taken our chances against the Blight without these foolish dwarves," Morrigan muttered as she rose from the ground, adjusting her staff.

The Warden didn't respond, wondering if perhaps Morrigan was right, while at the same time knowing taking chances was not always wise when it came to the fate of an entire country. She began walking to the door, finding no further traps in their way as the witch followed her. Everil cautiously opened the door, her eyes narrowing as she looked into a room that contained boxes and chests, possibly goods intended for smuggling. They entered carefully, with Everil drawing one of her daggers as she eyed the area. They walked further in and it wasn't long before a door in the other side of the room opened and several Carta dwarves poured out, carrying daggers and swords.

Everil swiftly drew her other blade and stepped forward, engaging the first dwarf. She deflected his sword and twisted her body, slashing his throat open and moving on to the next. They were outnumbered and without Alistair and Zevran with them, they also lacked additional offensive power.

She had to end this battle quickly.

"Morrigan! Ice!" She called, striking down another dwarf.

The mage did as she was told, mouthing out a spell. Everil quickly sidestepped out of the way, allowing her cone of cold to spread before them, freezing every enemy in its path. Everil then rushed in, shattering the necks of each frozen enemy as she advanced towards those still moving by the door. She slid on the ground as one raised their axe, taking out his legs. She whirled around as she stood, slashing the dwarf next to him and then bringing her blade down upon him, stabbing his chest. She rose as she panted for breath, expecting more thugs, and when none came, she surveyed the damage.

Morrigan walked over the bodies that now lay on the ground, blood pooling under them. "Well done."

"Thank you." Everil wiped blood from her chin. "Let's keep moving."

As they stepped through the following door, movement from the corner of her eye had her turn head just in time to see a hammer coming down. Everil tackled Morrigan to the side, narrowly avoiding the weapon as it slammed onto the ground, sending stone and dirt flying in every direction.

A hand flew her way then, wrapping around her neck.

From the floor, Morrigan watched with wide eyes as the Warden was easily lifted off her feet by a heavily armored qunari, then thrown across the room like a rag doll. She hit the wall sideways, dropping her weapons as she fell face down.

"Warden!" She called out as Everil dizzily pushed herself up, a drop of blood dripping from her forehead.

The qunari lifted his hammer with both hands and crossed the distance to the Grey Warden, preparing to slam it down on her.

"Get away from her!" Morrigan bit out as she quickly stood and then whispered a spell, sending a wave of fire towards the qunari's back, stopping him in his tracks. He turned to her, angrily stalking towards her with a snarl. The mage took a step back, pressing her purple lips together as the giant man hovered above her.

He suddenly stumbled forward, then turned, reaching behind him in an attempt to remove Everil's small form from his back as she dug her daggers down between his neck and shoulders. She twisted the blades, drawing a cry out of him. He then took several steps before finally falling forward, blood pouring out and pooling beneath him.

She winced as she sat up on top of him, pulling the dagger out while she panted for breath. Everil turned her head to smile at Morrigan, who was staring at her with her mouth gaped open.

"That was a close one. Are you all right?"

"'Tis I who should be asking you such questions, fool. Your head is bleeding." She walked up to her, offering her a hand.

Everil chuckled and took it, letting the woman help her up before reaching up to her aching forehead. "I'm fine... just a minor cut and a bump." The Warden then picked up her other weapon to sheath them both behind her back. "I didn't expect to find a qunari here, however. It makes me glad Sten is on our side."

"Perhaps he is a hired hand. We should be careful, as there could be more."

"Agreed. Well… now that we have no more surprises, let us keep going." Everil sighed and resumed their walk. "I hope Alistair and Zevran are faring better than we were just now."

xxxxxxx

One of the thugs wailed as he was cut down, his blood spraying out of his throat as he fell. Alistair pivoted on his foot, turning around to stab his sword through another dwarf. He straightened himself, surveying the area for any more enemies only to find they were all downed. He wiped his forehead and gazed towards Zevran, who was sheathing his daggers as he walked towards him.

"Well that wasn't as bad as I thought it would be." The elf grinned, his face and chest covered in the blood of their enemy.

"Oh there's more of them further in, I'm sure." Alistair resumed their trek through the dungeon, walking past boxes full of lyrium bottles and precious metals.

Zevran's brows furrowed worriedly. "Do you think Everil and Morrigan ran into some of them by now?"

"Provided they weren't captured by that trap, yes," Alistair replied with a sigh, his chest tightening with concern. "I just hope they'll be all right until we find them…"

"You really do love her, don't you?" Zevran uttered as he followed him.

Alistair glanced at him over his shoulder, lifting a brow. "Of course I do. Did you think I was with her just for fun? I'm not like you."

"You misjudge me, Warden. I wouldn't take her for granted. On the contrary, I would…uhm…" He froze, suddenly remembering who he was talking to.

Alistair stopped in his tracks, turning to face him with widened eyes. "You love her..."

"I…uh…" Zevran's muttered, his surprised expression giving him away.

Alistair reached up to rub the back of his neck, breathing out of his nose to calm the subtle irritation rising in his chest. "Look, I don't care if you… have feelings for her. Just keep your distance and we wont have a problem. Now let's go, I want to find her and make sure she's all right." He then turned his back to him, stiffly stalking away without looking back to see if the elf was following.

"You don't care… huh?" Zevran uttered with a humorless smile, following after him.

They made their way further into the lair, taking out more Carta dwarves in their wake while dodging the traps set up for them, mostly thanks to Zevran's ability to spot and disarm them. He noticed that these enemies were nearly as untrained as the darkspawn, completely predictable and disorganized despite their numbers. That these were castless dwarves probably had something to do with it, as they were likely unable to afford training in their traits.

Soon they arrived to a room with two doors, one of which was larger than the other, with a sentinel standing beside it, surrounded by more dwarves.

"Ah they have a bodyguard, it seems." Zevran drew his blades as the dwarves began to cautiously advance towards them.

"That's a qunari… Why do they have a qunari?" Alistair frowned, sword and shield already in hand.

They swiftly dispatched the dwarves one by one, and the qunari brought up his large hammer, advancing towards them. They both dodged in opposite directions as he brought down his heavy weapon, hitting the ground. Alistair moved in then, raising his blade and striking at the enemy's side, cutting through his heavy armor, but not enough to draw blood. He then ducked as the massive man swung his hammer sideways, missing his head by a hair. Alistair then took the opportunity to stab at his exposed side, burying his sword through his armor.

The qunari let out a deep cry, then quickly struck with his fist, connecting with the Warden's stomach as he was unable to pull his sword out in time. Alistair's breath was forced out of him before the enemy punched him again, hitting him across the face while making him let go of his sword.

Zevran ran forth with blades ready as the qunari pulled out the Warden's blade, tossing it aside. The elf nimbly dodged his next punch and stabbed his arm, only to be thrown off when the qunari swung him sideways.

"You big bastard…" Alistair muttered as he pushed himself up, picking up his sword from the ground as the new bruise on his cheek throbbed.

As the qunari brought up his hammer, Alistair dodged and rammed his shield up against the man's jaw, stunning him. He then swung his sword up and to the side, swiftly slicing the man's throat open and effectively putting him down. Just as he did the smaller door opened.

"Thank the Maker!" Everil smiled upon seeing the two men standing in the room, rushing over to them as Morrigan walked behind her.

"I could say the same thing." Alistair told her as she approached, letting out a huff when she threw her arms around his neck. He gently returned the hug, still holding his weapons and bloodied from the kill he had just made. "Are you all right? I didn't expect you two to suddenly disappear on us like that." He told her as she pulled back to look up at him.

"We're fine. What happened to your face?" She frowned, reaching up to carefully inspect his cheek.

"This guy happened," He muttered, pointing his sword to the dead qunari on the floor. "And I don't know about you, but I think I'm ready to get out of here."

"Same here," Zevran muttered as he stepped towards them.

Everil nodded to the elf, then turned to their large door ahead.

They all continued on towards the larger door and when they entered they were greeted by a group of Carta members, each one standing behind a female dwarf who was currently smirking up at them with arms folded over her chest.

"Well, well… Look at what the cat dragged in from the surface. A bunch of meddling rats."

"I take it you're Jarvia," Everil said, giving the woman a cold look.

"That's right." Her smirk widened. "Heard the female Warden is the leader. You're a pretty one. Maybe I should make an example out of you by cutting up that doll face of yours."

Everil let out an amused chuckle, a sarcastic smile tugging on her lips. "You are all that is left of your people after all we've killed on our way here, and yet you threaten me. I see you are not only despicable, but stupid too."

The woman's eyes narrowed, her sinister smile faltering. "I will make you pay for every one of their deaths… Shall we teach her a lesson boys?"

The thugs spread out then, each one hanging forth at full speed.

"Watch for traps," Everil told the others as they drew their weapons.

They spread out, each one engaging individual enemies. Morrigan stayed behind, casting a fire spell on the stragglers. The rogues were fast, but rusty in skill, so they were easily cut down.

Everil sliced through one's neck then advanced towards Jarvia, who was drawing her weapons as she came. They locked daggers, the dwarf gritting her teeth while Everil looked down at her with a calm expression, completely unfazed by the woman's heated glare.

Jarvia pushed on her dagger, then struck sideways at her. Everil deflected the blade, then slid down to kick at her feet, forcing the dwarf to jump back to dodge. As she did she shot out several smaller daggers, which Everil hit with her weapons, knocking some off the air while avoiding others before kicking forth.

Jarvia let out a frustrated growl at how quickly the Warden moved, flowing like the wind with each attack she delivered or dodged.

"Die, damn you!" The dwarf snapped as she blocked another hit and swung with her other weapon.

Everil swiftly flipped her dagger over and struck at her opponent's blade with the pummel as it came, the impact knocking Jarvia's arm back and making her weapon fly out of her hand.

Again the rogue's eyes grew wide, realizing that engaging these people was a mistake just as the Warden's blade buried itself in her ribs and through her lung. She spat out blood, gazing up at Everil as she choked. "What…?"

"You should have left those merchants alone," Everil muttered coldly before pulling out her blade, letting the dwarf fall on her chest and onto a pool of her own blood.

Panting lightly, Everil put away her weapons and turned to her companions, each of them covered in the blood of their opponents. "We're done here. Let's go report back to Harrowmont."

xxxxxxx

"Impressive work, Wardens." Harrowmont reached out to shake their hand, a small smile upon his face. "Now my people won't have to worry about those thugs destroying their shops and threatening their lives."

"Glad to help," Everil quietly replied, offering him a smile of her own. "So… Does this solve your political problems, Lord Harrowmont?"

He clasped his hands behind his back and gazed down as he shook his head. "If only it were that easy. While what you did for me did bolster the people's support for me, this is still not enough to seal the deal."

Alistair raised a brow. "So… You still need us to help you."

"I am afraid so. And the next task will not be an easy one."

"Great," He muttered with a sigh. "What else is needed?"

"For every decision in which there is such division between our people, we look to our ancestors for advice. Their word is considered of great value, especially now without a king."

"Aren't your ancestors dead?" Zevran asked as he scratched the back of his head, tousling his platinum hair.

Harrowmont tilted his chin up. "There is one who still walks among us."

"A Paragon," Everil said as she crossed her arms.

"Correct." Harrowmont nodded. "Paragon Branka is the only one the Assembly will listen to now. Obtaining her support will be the last piece we need."

"And where do we find her?"

"That is where it becomes complicated." The old dwarf turned around, walking towards the fire warming his study and gazing at the flames. "She has been missing for some time. The last we heard of her she had put together an expedition group to travel into the deep roads. I ask that you find her and bring her back to us."

"That's a pretty tall order," Alistair told him with a troubled crease upon his brow.

"You are Grey Wardens. I am certain you can handle it," Harrowmont said with unwavering confidence.

"Wow…" Alistair folded his arms with a humorless smile. "Well… we appreciate your faith in us, but even with our entire party, it would still be near suicide to search for someone in a darkspawn-infested maze. Especially without some sort of clue as to where to look."

"I agree with Alistair," Everil uttered, doubt in her tone. "Do you know of anyone who could give us more details on a location? Or even a map… if we have a more defined path we could consider it."

"I didn't say I would send you in blind," Harrowmont approached his desk, producing a rolled up piece of paper from one of the drawers. He then approached Everil, handing it over to her. "This is a map of what we know of the deep roads. I don't know exactly where Branka went, but she has to be in one of the thaigs charted upon it."

"Then that's a start… we will head out first thing in the morning," She said with a nod, putting the map away in her bag. "We will bring you news upon our return from the deep roads."

"My thanks." He gave them a grateful tilt of the head. "And good luck out there."

"Thank you." She turned on her heel, heading to their as the others followed.

xxxxxxx

The bell that signaled the night reached her ears once more, but they were already back at the inn, preparing to enter the deep roads the next day. The thought made her nervous, to say the least. Grey Wardens only entered that forsaken place when nearing the end of their lives, seeking one last glorious battle against their mortal enemies before succumbing to the taint.

Her haunted blue eyes stared back at her in the mirror, dressed in her simple white nightgown as she brushed her still damp hair with a comb, wondering how much the curse had truly changed her body. She didn't feel ill, but she knew that was simply because it killed slowly, taking over her as an assassin slowly creeps up on their victim. And she wondered if her parents still would have allowed her to join the Grey Wardens had they known the heavy prize she was to pay.

Though it didn't really matter what they wanted then, she would have likely died that night regardless.

Everil shook her head, trying to dispel the unpleasant thoughts and the memories that now made her chest feel heavy. She had come a long ways from that slightly sheltered young woman, and she had the bumps and bruises to show for it. If she had to do it all over again, even knowing what she did now, she would do it with no regrets.

A knock on her door pulled her out of her reverie and she turned her head towards it. She placed the comb down on the wooden table before she made her way to the door, opening it. "Morrigan? How can I help you?" She uttered in mild bewilderment.

The witch pressed her lips together for a moment, as if thinking of the right words. "May we speak in private?"

"Sure, come in," Everil stepped back, opening the door wider for her to enter.

Morrigan gazed around the room, spotting only the hound staring back at her. "I assumed Alistair would be with you."

"He went to the inn's bath house with Zevran," Everil replied as she closed the door.

"I thought those two did not care much for each other."

Everil chuckled. "They don't. I told them to go together. Especially after today."

"I see." Morrigan smiled lightly, placing her hands on her hips. "At… any rate. I wanted to apologize to you for my recent behavior. I questioned your ability to lead due to your romantic feelings towards your fellow Warden. 'Twas unnecessary… especially after all you have done for me."

"You speak your mind. There is nothing wrong with that," Everil said with a smile of her own. "What brought this on anyway? You don't usually contradict yourself."

"I still believe as I do... that love is a useless feeling. But you are your own person… and I… admire your ability to follow your own path, regardless of what others think you must or mustn't do." She tilted her head down, suddenly avoiding her gaze as she turned to leave. "That is all I had to say. Have a good evening."

"Wait, Morrigan."

She paused on her way to the door, turning to face her.

"I just remembered…" Everil walked up to her bag, rummaging through it. "On my way back from the bath house, I ran into a traveling merchant who sold trinkets on the road." She rose and walked up to her, carrying a small bundle in her hands. "I saw this in his cart and immediately thought of you. I want you to have it."

Morrigan carefully took the bundle and began to unwrap it, her yes growing wide upon seeing what was inside of the worn cloth. A golden mirror, with jewels encrusted around the edges.

"You… you remembered?" She whispered, her amber eyes trailing up meet hers.

"Of course. What sort of friend would I be otherwise?" Everil smiled warmly at her.

Morrigan hesitated, attempting to find her words, the warm feeling in her chest alien to her. She had told the Warden her childhood story in on passing, speaking of the time when she had snuck towards a carriage and stolen a beautiful mirror. The mirror had then been chartered by her mother, leaving her heartbroken, for it was the first time she ever owned something so beautiful.

She held the mirror to her chest, a genuine smile spreading upon her purple, painted lips. "You have my gratitude. I… I also think of you as a friend. Perhaps even a sister."

"That sounds accurate. We've been through much together, after all."

"We have indeed," She cast her eyes down, still clutching the mirror to her chest, a smile she hadn't had in a long time forming upon her lips. It was strange and difficult to describe, but she felt closer to this woman than she did to anyone she had even met.

The door opening made them crank their heads towards it. Alistair stepped in with his armor in his arms, wearing a loose tunic and trousers, his hair wet from the bath.

He gave Morrigan a strange look. "What are you doing here?"

She scowled with distaste at his intrusion. "The War—Everil and I happened to be having a private conversation. I was under the impression that this Arl Eamon had taught you the most basic proper manners, such as knocking upon a lady's door instead of barging in unannounced. Apparently, I was mistaken. Though I should not be surprised, considering you have the cognitive abilities of a toadstool."

"Sheesh… what an elaborate way to insult someone..." He muttered, walking over to the nearest table to drop off his newly cleaned gear before going back to the door. "Sorry I interrupted. I'll leave you two alone."

"'Tis far too late for that now, you fool!" Morrigan muttered, walking past him with her chin arrogantly tilted up, closing the door behind her.

Everil let out a chuckle at the bewildered look he gave her.

He frowned. "What just happened?"

She took a breath, unable to hold back her smile. "Don't take it personal this time. She was embarrassed."

"Morrigan embarrassed?" He glanced to the door. "At what?"

"I gave her a gift she liked and you walked in on her beaming like a little girl."

"Ohh… huh? That's it? I just took a bath with a bunch of burly dwarves who questioned my manhood every time they looked my way, and an elf who wouldn't shut up about how many women he'd bathed with." He sighed, giving her a hopeless smile. "On top of it all, I almost didn't fit in their tubs."

She laughed lightly. "Oh I can picture that."

"Glad you find it amusing." His smile widened.

She tugged a strand of hair behind her ear. "Sorry… I'm just a little nervous about tomorrow."

"You mean the deep roads?"

She nodded.

He stepped towards her and gently placed his hands her shoulders. "Everything will be fine. We just have to prepare well before going. I also think that with the Blight, there might not be as many darkspawn underground, so we might be able to avoid the bulk of their numbers."

"I suppose you could be right... As for the party, I don't know if we should take everyone with us. A small group that draws less attention would be better." She sighed, her brow furrowing in concentration. "Shale can help take care of numbers if we get overwhelmed by the enemy, and Wynne can assist with magic. Magnus can come with us this time too." She sent her hound a small smile, receiving a happy bark in return. "The others can stay here and wait for us."

"Would Wynne be able to handle it? We don't know how long we'll be walking down there."

She gazed up at him. "We need a healer in case things go awry."

"I guess you're right." A reassuring smile tugged at his lips, his hand coming up to tenderly cup her cheek. "Don't worry… If anyone can lead us into the darkspawn lair and get us out alive, it's you."

She placed a hand over his, leaning into his touch. "You have that much faith in me..."

"Of course I do." His smile widened. "You've led us through many live or death situations and all of us are still here. I think that says something."

"Thank you," Everil murmured, his encouraging words helping ease the tension that had built within her chest.

Every inch of success they had was earned through blood and sweat. Even now as they dallied through the dwarven kingdom, people in the surface perished under the blade of a hurlock, the bite of an ogre or the taint of the Blight. It was a thought she constantly carried, no matter how trivial the task. Pressure was constantly upon her shoulders, for if she were to make the wrong choice, or the wrong call in battle, someone would suffer or be affected by it.

She felt him tilt her chin up, her eyes going up to meet his as he traced her lower lip with his thumb.

"This looks like it's healed…" He uttered, his soft voice causing her heart to skip a beat, his gentle touch making her lips tingle.

She absently ran her tongue over them, feeling as if her mouth had run dry. "It is. It no longer bothers me."

"So I can do this…?" He said and then softly pressed his lips to hers in a brief, gentle kiss.

She felt her heartbeat quicken as she brushed her lips against his, purring against them. "You can do anything you like, darling…"

"Anything I like, huh…?" He huskily whispered the words, his hot breath tickling her lips and sending a pleasant shiver up her spine.

"Yes…" She murmured and then felt him gently take hold of her hips as his lips claimed hers, his tongue invading her mouth.

Her hands slid up his chest and over his shoulders, her arms wrapping around his neck as their tongues slowly battled for dominance, their breaths intertwining. She found herself lost in the taste of him, a moan escaping her as his tongue sensually explored her mouth. Then suddenly she was pinned to the wall behind her, his hard body pressed against hers as he devoured her lips. Everil whimpered, her temperature rising as she felt his longing through their heated kiss.

Alistair then strayed, sprinkling a trail of kisses down her jaw and to her neck, his tongue then gently tasting her skin and drawing a lustful moan out of her.

"Not tired tonight I see…" She breathed, her eyes closing in bliss before another moan escaped her, the sensation of his moist tongue against her skin making her shudder.

"No… this time I just don't care…" He murmured into her ear, absently press his erection against her abdomen. She bit her lips as she felt it, her own parts growing moist in anticipation.

Alistair pulled back just enough to gaze down at the lace upon her chest, the only obstacle keeping her gown up and over her shoulders. His lustful eyes met hers as he tugged at lace and untied it, loosening the already flowing clothing. Knowing what he wanted, she lowered her arms, allowing the soft fabric to slide off of her and reveal her naked body to him.

Everil then cupped his cheeks with her hands, drawing him down for another hungry kiss. She sighed as she felt his hands explore her curves, his fingers slowly caressing her bare skin as they slid down her sides and to her hips. One of her hands found its way to his prominent bulge, and he drew in a breath when she began to rub her palm against it, making it pulse under her touch. He put one hand on the wall to brace himself as he moaned against her lips, his other hand cupping one of her breasts, kneading it and massaging it in circles.

Unable to breathe, he broke the kiss and nuzzled her cheek, groaning as she continued to tease his imprisoned manhood through the fabric of his breeches.

"You want me this badly…?" She murmured teasingly, feeling his erection firm against her hand.

He brushed his lips against her cheek. "More than anything…"

She smiled lightly as she untied the string on his trousers and then pulled the fabric down along with his undergarment, releasing his hard member from its prison.

Now free and without warning, he took her by the hips and hoisted her up, forcing her to wrap her arms and legs around him. His manhood penetrated her wet depths in one swift thrust, drawing a surprised cry from her.

Everil whimpered and gripped at his tunic as he began to move in and out of her, gravity allowing him to hit deep within her each time.

He continued thrusting up as his hands fondled her behind, making her walls tighten around him. The pressure intensified the pleasure shooting down his shaft and he groaned against her neck.

Everil trailed breathless kisses along his neck while enjoying the sensation of his member stroking her insides. Her core tingled, each thrust making her moan as his length pressed against her sensitive spots.

He wanted to give her more, to hear more of her. So he thrust in harder, her body jolting up against the wall each time their hips met.

A pleased cry escaped her lips as his hard rod slid through her tight walls, the tip hitting her top. She was finding it harder and harder to keep her legs from going limp as the intense sensations nearly blocked her ability to think.

"Alistair…" She called weakly, brushing her flushed lips against his ear.

"Yes…" He breathed heavily.

"Take me to the bed…"

He slowed down to a stop and did as he was told, still holding her up while walking the three steps to the bed. He then carefully lowered her upon the mattress.

He pulled out of her to promptly take off his tunic, boots and breeches, as she leaned on her elbows, eagerly watching him undress while her eyes traced every inch of his chiseled body. He tossed his clothes aside to climb into bed, while she obediently spread her legs for him and lay on her back, gently stroking his cheek as he made his way up.

Alistair leaned down to trail gentle kisses on her cheek as he slid into her, earning a pleased moan from her as her walls enveloped him once more.

"You feel so good..." He quietly said, his voice deep with lust.

"Do I…?" She murmured with a small smile. "Allow me to make it even better..."

Everil gently rolled them over, his member still in her as she mounted his hips, leaning up with her hands on his hard chest. She cast her lustful gaze upon him and began to slowly ride his length, enjoying the tingling feeling it spread through her as she moaned.

He felt her slide up and down, her walls possessively wrapping around his manhood. The moist heat around his manhood made him pulse within her as he groaned, the friction sending pleasure trailing down his shaft. His gaze traveled her naked body, admiring her sensual curves as he reached up to cup her ample breasts.

She moaned and arched her back as she continued to move, leaning into his touch. His rough hands played with her bosom, massaging her breasts as he watched her with hunger in his eyes. She gasped when he pinched her nipples, the pleasurable pain making her want more. So she bit her lip and leaned upright, throwing her head back with a loud groan as she rode him faster now. Her hips bounced against his, his member penetrating her deeper while pressing against the sensitive spot within her.

"Maker's breath…!" He bit out as sharp pleasure shot down his shaft, his hands sliding down her chest to rest upon her hips. He gulped, watching her breasts bounce erotically as small drops of sweat slid down her flushed skin. The very sight numbed his mind, accentuating the sensations in their joined parts, his manhood throbbing with each stroke of her folds against him.

Hearing his throaty moans growing louder urged her further. Everil clenched her walls around him as she moved faster, slamming her wet sex down upon him as she felt herself edging closer and closer to the edge.

He groaned loudly at the tight friction, his chest heaving as he began to thrust up when she came down, following her rhythm and ramming into her core.

"Alistair!" She called out when his rod roughly hit her center, each thrust drawing a cry out of her as she continued riding him. The intensifying feeling made her ache for her release, quickly pushing her towards the edge until she couldn't hold on any longer. Her climax then broke loose, her constricting walls dragging him along with her.

With a cry they came crashing down, his throbbing member filling her with his seed as her depths convulsed around him. She leaned over to rest her hands on the bed, grabbing on to the bed sheets until her knuckles turned white. She continued to move her hips, the intense pleasure rocking her body each time he slid in and out of her soaked depths until they slowed to a stop.

Panting from exhaustion, she lay over him, her head upon his shoulder as his arms wrapped around her. Moments passed as they tried to regain their breath, their hearts racing wildly as they lay in each other's arms.

"Alistair…" She called tiredly.

"Hm…?" He lovingly nuzzled her head, his fingers gently combing through her hair.

She sighed, his tender touch lightly calming her. "What will we do… after all this is over?"

"Good question…" He uttered, letting out a breath of his own. "There will always be darkspawn to kill… but with the rest of the order gone..."

"We can rebuild it..."

"I guess you're right… We could make new Grey Wardens." He smiled lightly while running his fingers down her back. "Then maybe… while we do that we'll travel through Ferelden together… just the two of us."

"Hmm… I like the sound of that..." She uttered as his fingers continued to caress her flushed skin, her eyes closing sleepily.

His words gave her something more to look forward to after ending the Blight, and yet another motivating reason to ensure they survive. She couldn't imagine not having him with her after the end. She wanted to be by his side for as long as possible, to spend her last days with him when the taint claims her.

Having lost her family and becoming a Grey Warden meant she could no longer have her old life back, but she was willing to build a new one with him.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter XVII

After preparing for their trip to the deep roads, Everil and her chosen party made their way towards the entrance, where two soldiers stood guard. Behind the guards, a long trail stretched towards the dark, gaping maw that marked the entrance to the deep roads, through which the ancient dwarven kingdom once spread into many thaigs connected in an underground network throughout Ferelden. After the first Blight darkspawn broke through the depths of Thedas, nearly eradicating the dwarves and taking over a large portion of their territory. Ever since that day, Orzammar was forced to constantly fight the darkspawn, the threat of darkspawn invasions constantly looming over them.

"Grey Wardens." One of the guards greeted them, tilting his head.

Everil returned the nod. "We seek to enter the deep roads, per Lord Harrowmont's orders."

"So we heard. You have leave to depart at any time."

"If you're going to the deep roads, I think you could use a sodded guide."

They all turned to see a dwarf approaching, heavily armored and carrying a large axe upon his back.

"Hey, it's you!" Alistair's brows shot up, his words earning a curious glance from Everil.

"Good to see you again, Warden," Oghren told him with a wide grin, reaching out for a handshake.

Alistair shook his hand firmly, and then turned to his fellow Warden. "Everil, this is Oghren. We met at the Proving, in the stands."

"A pleasure to meet you," She said to the dwarf and shook his hand.

"Damn good work at the Proving! I hear you're the boss lady around here?" He glanced towards Alistair, then back to her.

"You could say that." She crossed her arms, a corner of her lips going up. "So you say you know someone who can guide us?"

"Yup, I'm the one who can help you through the deep roads. But it depends on if you're willing to scratch my back too."

"Is that so?" She tilted her head. "So what is it you want?"

"Ever heard of Paragon Branka?" He reached up to twirl his thick, red mustache between his fingers.

"Yes. She's the reason Lord Harrowmont sent us here. He wants us to find her and bring her back to help decide the outcome of the election."

"Well I'll be damned… Guess it's my lucky day. Only it took those sodded dusters two years to send someone to search for her..." He huffed with a scowl. "I want to come with you to find her. If you let me go, I'll tell you what she was looking for and give you the map she left me."

"A map? Harrowmont gave me one..."

"That one's probably old," He said gruffly and produced a folded piece of paper from his bag, presenting it to them. "This one is the most complete map of the deep roads, drafted by the Paragon herself. I've been meaning to go look for her, but one man can't venture out to the deep roads alone, and not many dwarves have the balls to go in that far in. So that's where you folks come into play."

"Well… that explains why you were so interested in us at the Proving," Alistair said dryly.

"That's right." He smirked. "So what'll be, Warden?"

Alistair and Everil exchanged glances and then she nodded down to the dwarf, offering him a hand for another handshake. "Very well. You're welcome to come along. Just make sure you behave yourself and follow our orders."

"I know the rules, Warden." He shook on it, then handed her the map. "Here's the map."

"Thanks." She smiled and then turned to her companions. "Let's get going."

xxxxxxx

The deep roads were predictively dark and damp, the ruins of ancient dwarven architecture surrounding them. They had trailed off to a cave after the road had been cut off by a cave in, forcing them to walk through the narrow passage to go around it. It was relatively silent with the exception of their footsteps and the distant echoes of water droplets hitting the rocks. Everil led the way through one of the caves connecting the portions of Caridin's Cross that were blocked, a torch in hand as she watched out for the familiar voices in her brain an approaching darkspawn would cause.

But what made it all the more difficult was that while they could detect them from afar, so could they.

"Impressive golem you have here," Oghren commented quietly, gazing up at Shale as they walked. "I didn't think these things existed anymore."

"It can speak to me directly," Shale uttered back, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"Oh, so you have a temper." He let out a gruff chuckle. "You almost sound like a woman."

"I am… female." Shale glared down at him.

"Ooh… nice. Plump and powerful. Just the way I like 'em." Oghren smirked. "Nothing like being thrown around in the sack by a mighty woman."

Shale's expression darkened further. "Disgusting. It must not have much luck with the females of its kind."

"Oh I have had luck. If you were a dwarf I could show you why." He chuckled. "But just as a reference… it's like sticking your stone fist through a bronto's asshole."

"Maker's breath…" Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to block out the mental pictures. For once he could appreciate Sten's silence, for it seemed that every other man they had tag along possessed the subtlety of an ogre in every conversation.

"That is no way to speak to a lady, Ser," Wynne chastised gently, her firm motherly tone leaving no room for argument.

"Sorry..." Oghren grumbled, sending her an annoyed sideward glance. He looked on at the two Wardens walking side by side ahead of them, wondering why it was the female was leading. What little he knew of human culture in the surface included the lesser status of women in some societies, and some culture's unwillingness to allow their females to participate in their military. He hadn't heard of many female Grey Wardens either, and he lived in a city they all visited when they neared the end of their lives. .

"So… how come you're the only two left? Always heard you lot were relevant."

Everil glanced at him over his shoulder. "We still are. Otherwise one of your lords would not be using us to become your new king."

"I get the point there. But that still doesn't explain the rest."

Alistair sighed. "We're the only Grey Wardens left in Ferelden after a bastard's betrayal got the rest of us killed. There are more elsewhere, but they're too far away to help us with the Blight at the moment."

"There's a Blight? Is that why you two are here?"

"You dwarves don't hear much from the surface, do you?" Alistair said with a raised brow.

Oghren scoffed. "Nope. Can't say we give a rat's ass about it. And to us a Blight just means extra darkspawn we have to kill."

"So we've heard." He frowned, gazing down at him as they walked. "But yes… that's why we're here. Seeking help from the dwarves."

"Ah. Now I understand why you're both running errands for that Harrowmont."

"Not by choice… sort of." Everil muttered. "Oghren, will you tell us now what Branka was looking for?"

He gazed up at her. "The Anvil of the Void."

She gave him a puzzled look. "The Anvil of the Void?"

"A legendary artifact used by Paragon Caridin to create our golems during the First Blight. They say the Anvil still exists, in the ancient thaig that was taken over by the darkspawn."

"Wait… that is what was used to create me?" Shale asked with piqued interest.

"Obviously. Which means you're pretty old, lady. That thing's been missing for centuries." Ogrehn said gruffly. "Branka wanted to find it in order to help build more golems."

The snapping of several strings suddenly echoed in the narrow passage, where they had little room to maneuver.

Alistair quickly drew his shield and wrapped an arm around Everil's shoulders to pull her against his chest, causing her to drop the torch as he shielded them from the arrows. Shale pulled Wynne back as Magnus took cover behind the golem, using her rock body to protect the hound and mage while Oghren just swung his axe to deflect the attacks.

After the wave of arrows subsided, Everil pulled back just enough to gaze up at Alistair, finding herself still held protectively in his arms.

"Thanks," She uttered.

"Anytime." He replied with a smile.

Meanwhile the still lit torch rolled forward in time to reveal the group of dwarves charging towards them, raising their weapons high as the let out a cry.

"Kill the Wardens! Don't let them through!"

Seeing them coming towards them, Alistair let go of her to engage one of the dwarves, locking blades with him while she drew her own weapons to block another's attacks.

"Who the hell are these guys?" Oghren shouted as he cut through one of them.

"My guess is they are Prince Bhelen's men," Everil replied, sidestepping out of an axe's way to bring her dagger around, stabbing the dwarf on the nape. She drew the blade out and let him fall, blood pooling under his head.

Shale swooped down, taking out several dwarves and sending their crushed bodies flying back while Wynne froze several others, an opportunity Oghren and Magnus took to shatter their bodies. Alistair deflected a sword with his shield, then brought his blade down, stabbing the dwarf's chest.

After the rest of the enemies were downed, Everil surveyed the area and then turned to her companions. "Is everyone all right?"

"We're well, and certainly grateful Shale was here," Wynne said, giving the golem a grateful tilt of her head.

"My pleasure," The golem returned the friendly nod. Despite her prior attitude towards them, she seemed to get along well with the old mage.

"All good here too," Oghren said gruffly.

Alistair dropped on a knee to wipe his sword with one of the dwarves' clothes, glancing over their bodies. "I have the feeling these idiots were looking for the Paragon too."

"I doubt we will encounter more of them further in, but let's keep our eyes open nonetheless," Everil said as she sheathed her weapons.

They continued on their way through the cave and back to the underground highway, where large torches were set upon the crumbling columns at each side of the wide road. Everil put out their torch and strapped it to her hip for later use before she led the way again, gazing up and around at the ruins. It was both impressive and sad how widespread the dwarves had once been before having been nearly wiped out. She had to admire the dwarves' resilience and stubbornness to retain traditions that were even older than the Andrastian faith itself.

"There are darkspawn ahead," She told her companions as they neared the other side of Caridin's Cross, the familiar pull of the taint tugging at her body.

"A large group of them," Alistair added with a frown.

"Took long enough to run into those sodded bastards," Oghren grumbled.

They approached a corner as Everil motioned for them to press against the wall, the low growls of the low growls of the creature's reaching their ears. She dropped on a knee and slowly stuck her head out to survey the area, taking in the small fort the monsters had built to block the exit, protected by two ballistae pointed towards any incoming intruders.

"I'm surprised they haven't noticed we're here," Alistair whispered next to her, peeking from above her.

"I don't believe they are as smart in smaller numbers," She whispered back. "We must destroy the two ballistae before we charge. I don't want to leave anything they can use against us later." She rose and turned to her companions. "Wynne, I want you to aim one of your strongest fire spells between the ballistae. I will take care of the two genlocks mounted on them first, and keep any others from replacing them while you cast the spell." She turned to the others. "Shale, I want you to protect Wynne against any long range weapons, as she will be defenseless while casting. Alistair, Oghren and Magnus will charge and help eliminate the rest."

"Understood."

"Got it."

Everil drew her bow and once again edged closer to the edge of the wall as she readied her weapon. She didn't have a clear shot to the genlocks from where she stood, but all she needed was to take out at least one of them before they could both fire at once.

She took in a breath and then ran out of cover.

One of them spotted her first, but by the time he prepared to fire she had already sent an arrow flying towards it. It hit it square in the forehead, its body dropping to the floor by the large weapon. The other one fired, but she was one step ahead, rolling onto a knee to dodge the large projectile and then firing another arrow, killing him instantly.

"Now!" She called, preparing another arrow.

Wynne ran forth and began chanting while Shale stood beside her. Alistair, Oghren and Magnus rushed towards the incoming darkspawn, killing several of them as they came. Everil promptly climbed onto a boulder for higher ground, releasing arrows down upon any enemies attempting to reclaim their heavy weapons. One of them pulled a bow of their own, trying to shoot back at her, only to be tackled and mauled by her hound.

Whispering the last lines, Wynne sent a fireball towards her targets, which exploded and torched both ballistae. She kept her chant going, sustaining the flame until the wood that made up the weapons turned to ash, all the while burning any enemies within the same radius.

Moments later the creatures lie dead, burnt bodies and severed limbs bleeding over the road.

Everil hopped off her perch and put away her bow, regarding the others with a small smirk. "That went well. Good work."

"There will be more soon, I'm sure." Oghren grinned before swinging the blood off his axe.

"And we will be ready for them," She said as she pulled the map from her bag. "This exit leads to one of the Thaigs… Ortan Thaig."

"That's where Branka took her whole House on the expedition. With luck, that's where we'll find her," Oghren said as he wiped darkspawn blood off his chin.

Everil cast a curious look upon him."You speak as if you two were close."

"She was my wife," He grunted, producing a flask from his waist pouch and taking a long swig from it before letting out a loud burp. "Things didn't work out."

"I wonder why..." Shale uttered with mild amusement.

He shrugged. "At any rate, we should keep moving before more of these sodded things show up to check on their buddies."

Everil gave him a firm nod. "Agreed. Let's go."

xxxxxxx

More blood splattered over the ground as another hurlock fell with a gurgling cry. Everil swallowed and wiped her brow with the back of her hand, looking towards her companions as they finished up the third wave of darkspawn they encountered in Ortan Thaig. And she found herself grateful for their ability to sense them before the creatures could ambush them, since the darkness that surrounded them made it difficult to see them coming.

Located deeper in the deep roads, the ruins lacked the torches placed by dwarves in Caridin Cross. Instead, ominous blue flames on ancient hearths illuminated scattered areas, casting dark shadows that flickered and played with their minds. She found herself wondering if darkspawn usually lived alone, or if they had to share their domain with other creatures that were just as dangerous, if not more.

After a quick status check on her team, she motioned for them to follow, keeping quiet while carefully stepping through rubble and over piles of bones too old and broken to tell which species they came from. They passed deserted stone houses as they went, dwarven statues posted in every corner, holding hammers and other tools of their trade. They soon crossed what appeared to have been a town square, more skeletons lying in the dust, some still wearing pieces of armor or scraps of clothing. Forgotten remnants of those who used to live in the old dwarven kingdom before it was overtaken by one of the past Blights.

A sobering realization then dawned upon her, her heart falling to the pit of her stomach. _This is how Ferelden will look if we fail._

Movement ahead made them stop and reach for their weapons, but whatever it was scurried away before they could take a better look.

"Did you see that?" Wynne whispered, edging closer to her.

"I did." Everil narrowed her eyes.

They cautiously made their way towards the spot where the creature once stood, and as they walked they began to notice the massive spider webs clinging to the dwarven statues and the walls. Everil gulped, recalling their visit to the elven temple and her encounter with the spiders therein. On the ground, the body of a genlock lay upon a pool of its own blood, still twitching as its nerves continued to move.

"I don't think we were the ones who killed this one," She uttered uncomfortably, kneeling over it to inspect it. Small bite marks riddled its body as pieces of web clung to it.

"Mine!"

Everil's head snapped towards the angry voice while instinctively swatting at something thrown at her. The piece of metal clanked and slid over the ground, away from her, while the aggressor stood a distance to the side.

It was a dwarf.

Seeing he was unarmed, she quickly raised her hand to halt her companions, stopping them from drawing their weapons as she pushed herself to her feet.

"Who are you?" She asked sternly.

The dwarf shrunk away at her tone of voice, fear etched upon his pasty pale skin as he gazed up at her through pitch black eyes. She didn't yet know why, but he looked more dead than alive.

"Please don't be angry, pretty lady. Ruck is sorry!" He uttered nervously, dirty hands frantically wiping black blood from his mouth. "Ruck is just hungry!"

"Wait…" Alistair gave the strange dwarf a disturbed look. "Was he eating that darkspawn corpse just now?"

"Ruck, huh? I've heard that name before." Oghren's brows furrowed. "Some kid who disappeared in the deep roads years ago. Not much food down here, so the poor bastard's probably been eating these monsters to survive."

"Darkspawn blood is poisonous… I'm surprised he's even still alive," Alistair muttered, still disgusted by it all.

Oghren huffed. "He's not the first dwarf to end up like this, either. Every once in a while one of them makes their way back to Orzammar. My people call them ghouls… the living dead. They don't usually live this long."

"Ruck is your name then," Everil uttered, her tone much softer after hearing Oghren's words.

He nodded excitedly, an eerie grin tugging at his chapped lips. "Ruck is Ruck's name, yes."

"A pleasure to meet you. My name is Everil." She offered him a small smile in greeting. "My friends and I are looking for a group of dwarves who lost their way here. Have you seen them?"

He scratched his cheek, his gaze straying as if distracted. "There were once… but large creeper monsters carry them away. They takes things of paper and metal. They takes the shinies and the words."

"Creeper monsters… spiders?"

"Spiders, yes. But Ruck steals things from thems sometimes, and from the ones that don't move. Oh!" Ruck then suddenly wobbled towards Everil. He walked as if hunchbacked until he stood before her, extending his hand towards her.

"Pretty lady Ruck's guest now!" He said eagerly. "Follow Ruck. Ruck find many treasures!"

She hesitated. "Treasures? From the dwarves we seek?"

He nodded, his smile never fading.

"He might have clues on where Branka and her people went," Oghren offered.

She glanced his way with a nod before taking the ghoul's hand and letting him guide her towards a nearby cave, Alistair and the others following closely. As they entered, the light and warmth of a fire filled the cave, revealing a pile of shimmering stones and metals by a makeshift bed. She turned her head to another pile, this one of weapons and armor, laying upon a corner. Potions were set neatly on a makeshift rock table, the polished glass reflecting the light of the small campfire burning in the room.

Ruck released her hand, then took a necklace from the shining stones, showing it to her. "Ruck think pretty lady look like this. Shining beautiful."

"You're being hit on by a dead man. Isn't that flattering?" Oghren said with a sarcastic grin and an elbow to her hip.

After sending Oghren a hopeless glance, Everil cast a gentle look upon the ailing dwarf. "Thank you, Ruck. That's very sweet. But do you know what I need more than shining stones? Paper from those dwarves I told you about."

"Paper…" He muttered, tossing the necklace back into the pile. He scurried to a corner where books and scrolls lay on the floor, rummaging through it while muttering to himself while Everil folded her arms, waiting patiently.

He then returned to her with a scroll in hand. "Ruck found this."

She took the scroll from him and opened it. "It's a map."

"Let me see it." Oghren took it from her, then began looking over it. After a moment of searching through it, he gazed up. "This has Branka all over it… it says they camped further in. We can follow this map there."

"Perfect," Everil replied with a nod, then returned her attention to Ruck. "Thank you, Ruck. You have been of great help."

The dwarf then suddenly snatched the map from Oghren's hands, holding it to his chest. "Paper mine!"

Oghren glared at him, reaching for his axe. "Give it back you sodded—"

"Wait," Everil placed a hand on her companion's shoulder, interrupting his angry outburst and earning a scowl from him. She ignored it, her soft gaze still set on the ghoulish dwarf. "I thought you wanted to give me the map, Ruck."

He shook his head angrily. "No! Only show! My treasures!"

"Hmm…" She smiled lightly. "How about we trade for it instead?"

"I don't get it," Oghren uttered angrily. "Why don't we just kill him and take everything? The bastard's dead anyway. Might as well put him out of his misery."

Everil shot him an irritated look. "We are not killing an innocent. This man's fate is his own, not ours."

"Hmph… suit yourself." Oghren gave her a dismissive wave of his hand, turning his back to them and crossing his arms stubbornly.

"So what do you say?" Everil leaned over Ruck, her hands on her knees as she smiled at him. "Would you like to trade with me? I can give you one of my treasures in exchange for yours."

"What treasure?" Ruck gave her a questioning look.

Alistair eyed Ruck as his guard dropped at her sweet tone. She was skilled at disarming people, either by staring them down or coaxing them into doing what she wanted. But there was always kindness behind her intentions, even when threatening a foe into submission.

She reached into her pocket, pulling out a coin. "Would a silver do?"

"Silver…" His face scrunched up and he shook his head.

She gave him a puzzled look. A silver coin for a piece of paper was more than a good deal. "Then what do you want in exchange?"

He seemed pensive for a moment, his eyes shifting until he attempted to focus on her once more. "Pretty lady can have map for a kiss."

"What?" Alistair's brow furrowed.

She simply smiled. "All right. Close your eyes."

Ruck nodded and did as he was told.

A subtle pang of jealousy and revulsion crawled its way into Alistair's chest as he watched her lean closer to the ghoul, but instead of the lips she softly kissed his pale forehead.

"There." She smiled and then extended her open hand. "May I have the map now, please?"

Ruck numbly placed the scroll in her hand, staring at her dreamily as she leaned up.

She turned to her companions. "We have what we need. Let's go."

xxxxxxx

With the map in one hand and a torch in the other, she led them through the darkness once more, heading deeper into the ruins to an area no longer lit by the ominous blue flames from before. Spider webs covered every corner, skeletons wrapped in the sticky strings. They were yet to encounter a spider, but she knew they were bound to run into one eventually. A cold shiver ran up her spine as she remembered the large, pulsating bodies and long, hairy legs. _Ugh… I hate those things._

Alistair's hushed voice snapped her out of her troubling thoughts, drawing her attention.

"You know, you had me a little nervous with the dwarf back there," Alistair uttered as they walked, leaning close so only she could hear.

She gave him a surprised look, then shook her head. "Don't tell me you were jealous of that poor man."

"No…" He replied, rubbing the back of his head. "Well a little… But I was mostly nauseated. He'd just had a dead genlock for dinner, for Maker's sake." His nose curled as he spoke, the memory making his stomach twist.

"I… just felt bad for him." She smiled sadly at him. "That haunted look he had when constantly staring off into space… as if he were listening to voices in his head. It made me wonder if he could hear the archdemon speak, just as we do. And I wondered if, in a way, we are just like him."

"We're not..." He said quietly, his eyes downcast as he found himself suddenly pitying the dwarf. "We harness the power of the taint and use it against our enemies. Ruck is… yet another victim."

Her shoulders tensed as she looked on at the darkness ahead. "What bothers me the most is knowing that others in Ferelden are probably suffering the same fate by now."

He gently stroked her back, trying to reassure her. "All we can do is try to help those we can."

"I know..." She sighed, his calming gesture helping ease the tension.

Oghren eyed the Wardens as he and the others walked behind them, wondering why it was they were whispering to themselves. He gazed up to Wynne, who was quietly walking next to him. "Is there something going on between those two?"

She turned her head down, smiling lightly at the question. "You could say that."

Soon they arrived to a large chamber covered in spider webs, bundles of web scattered upon the ceiling.

Everil looked around while raising the torch to see, her heart beginning to race at the cheer number of bodies covering the walls. "I don't like this." She mumbled to herself.

"I found something!"

They turned to Oghren, who had gone ahead to kneel over a dying campfire in the distance.

Cautiously they headed towards him, trying not to step on the sticky webs on the ground, seeing the boxes and torn tents surrounding the dimming fire. Oghren leaned over one of the boxes, shifting through the pages of a large book that lay upon it while trying to make up the words within it.

Everil held her torch above him, receiving a grateful nod from him before he began to read the text.

"The dead trenches…" Oghren he read out loud.

She sighed. "Sounds like they went deeper in…"

Magnus let out a low growl, drawing their attention. He stood facing towards the back of the chamber, bearing his fangs as a thumping sound reached their ears.

Everil narrowed her eyes and walked to stand beside her hound.

"Wynne give us some light," She commanded.

The mage uttered a quick chant, setting the spider web upon the ground on fire. It spread quickly, revealing spiders that were as large as a man, quickly crawling towards them. They spread apart, opening a path for a much larger one that stomped past them to screech at the startled party.

"Ancestor's tits!" Oghren pulled out his axe, taking a step back.

Wynne lifted her hands, causing the flames to burst, burning the first row of spiders and stopping the rest in their tracks.

"Kill the small ones first!" Everil shouted as she charged, slicing through the first spider.

Magnus tackled one of the monsters, chewing up its body. The others also ran towards them, taking on the approaching numbers. Oghren sliced through one of the spiders to then bring his axe down upon another. One of them shot out its web, enveloping his weapon and keeping it from swinging it as another pounced on him, knocking him onto his back.

He brought up his armored arm, blocking its bite. "You sodded vermin!"

A dagger then stabbed through its body as it let out a cry, then someone kicked it off him, allowing him to roll over and slice through the one still trying to wrap his axe in web.

He turned to Everil with a grateful grin. "Appreciate it."

"You're welcome," She replied with a half-smile.

Shale pummeled through several of them, crushing their bodies with her fists and splattering their remains upon the ground.

Despite killing many, more of the spiders crawled towards them, stepping over those they vanquished.

The mage cast another spell, the flames covering more of the creatures as they shrieked in agony. One of them broke through its burning brethren, stomping in her direction. Panting from mana exertion, Wynne swung her arm, sending an arch of fire upwards and onto the enemy. It cried out and fell on its back, its legs twitching as it shriveled up. Another tried to attack her from the side, only to be cut down by Alistair, who sliced through its middle with his sword.

"Don't worry, I won't let them near you," He told the old woman, standing between her and the monsters.

Everil stabbed one in the head as it tried to bury its fangs on her and then turned around to slash the legs of another. As she did the larger spider tried to stomp down on her forcing her to jump out of the way as its front limbs hit the ground. It screeched and turned to her again, its abdomen pulsing before it shot its web towards her, wrapping on one of her legs as she tried to dodge it. "Blast it!" She bit out as she fell on her side, and then rolled onto her back when it began to draw her towards it.

Oghren ran and brought his axe down on the web, cutting it and releasing her from its hold. "I got you, Warden!" He then reached down and took her hand, helping her up.

"Thanks!" She said with a nod to the dwarf.

Alistair and Shale made their way towards them as Everil glanced their way. Her eyes then shifted to the monster. "Let's take down the legs, then we can focus on the body!"

The spider charged at them, screeching angrily.

Alistair and Everil ran in first, splitting up in opposite directions to target opposite legs. They slit through one each, making the monster scream. Oghren ran forward and between the legs, coming out from behind it as he cut through one of the back legs. With fewer legs to hold up its massive weight, it fell and Shale took the opportunity to bring up fists down upon it, smashing it down.

It let out another screech before it lay dead, its guts spilling onto the ground. Everil walked up to the golem, nodding up at her before taking in the damage they caused, the flames Wynne cast slowly dimming.

"All right!" Oghren kicked one of the spiders, spraying green goo over the ground. "How do you like that, you sodded freaks!" He then turned to his companions. "I knew I made the right choice tagging along with you people."

"I'm pleased you think so. Though I would not celebrate until we're back in Orzammar," Everil replied as she wiped green blood from her cheek to then pull out the original map Branka left behind. "So… our next destination is the Dead Trenches…"

"Such a cheerful name..." Alistair muttered with a humorless smile, folding his arms.

"It was designed by Caridin himself. We tried reclaiming it many times over the ages, but we lost it to the darkspawn each time," Oghren said as he walked up to them, taking the map from her hands. "It's also where we take you Grey Wardens during your err… last visit."

"Luckily we're not here for that... at least not yet," Alistair told the dwarf, yet still an uncomfortable feeling settled upon his chest.

Everil felt the same, but she tried to ignore it and let a corner of her lips go up. "Take us there, Oghren."

He nodded. "You got it. Let's go find Branka."

xxxxxxx

Everil's jaw set as the pull of the taint filled her mind, growing stronger the closer they were to the end of the cave, the thumping of troops marching reaching their ears as they walked. They emerged into a wide chamber with a bright cliff bordering a massive dwarven structure ahead, the chasm flaring as if it were on fire, illuminating the room. She carefully led them closer to the edge of the cliff and looked over it, finding the light came from torches as distant war cries sounded out from below.

Wynne gasped in horror, her eyes taking in the cheer number of enemies gathered beneath them. "Andraste's mercy… look at them all."

"We wouldn't be able to defeat them all… not even with all the armies in Ferelden," Everil said as her brow furrowed, overwhelmed by how grand their task truly was.

Suddenly a loud roar shook the ground as a massive shape shot up.

Everil jumped back from the ridge and onto Alistair's chest as he held her by the shoulders. Their stunned eyes followed what they saw was a dragon. The beast was the thing of nightmares. It was covered in black scales that shimmered with the hot red of the flames lit below, its cries filling their minds with dark, unintelligible words.

"The archdemon..." She breathed, an indescribable feeling gripping her chest as its very presence nearly suffocated her.

It landed heavily upon a stone bridge ahead, spitting a stream of purple fire as the darkspawn raised their weapons with a battle cry.

"That's the beast you have to kill?" Oghren muttered, his body tensing with the will to fight while his mind urged him to flee.

As if hearing Oghren's words, it swiftly turned its head towards the group, its blood red eyes narrowing as a deep growl rumbled in its throat. Then it set its sights on the two Grey Wardens, and it gazed upon them with its penetrating glare.

Alistair and Everil could only stare back, rooted to the spot as his hold on her shoulders instinctively tightened.

The archdemon then turned its back to them, and with one last deafening roar, it took to the air once more, rising to a wide fissure on the underground chamber.

"Maker…" Finally finding the ability to speak, Alistair said in barely a whisper. "It… It didn't even care that we were here."

"It's headed towards the surface..." Everil said, fear melting into renewed determination as her hands closed into fists.

They had expected the Blight to spread this far after Ostagar, and by now the people of Ferelden were likely running out of time. But they had to keep going, at least for those left standing.

She whipped her head around to her companions. "Let's keep moving."

At her command they walked along the ridge, quickening their pace into a run towards the stone bridge the dragon had stood upon.

While crossing, they were met with a large group of darkspawn, their numbers blocking their advance. And as they charged towards them, Wynne froze their path, the ice crawling its way up their bodies. Everil and Alistair continued on while followed by the others, breaking the frozen bodies into pieces, while slashing through the stragglers. They moved on without looking back, the mage keeping a safe distance as they ran into another group of enemies, these standing upon the steps leading up to a massive set of doors.

The genlocks aimed and fired their arrows down at them while Everil dodged and swiped at the projectiles with her dagger before rushing up the steps and burying her blades into the first enemy. Oghren and Shale took care of those trying to flank them from the sides, the dwarf slicing a hurlock in half while the golem pummeled several at once.

After stabbing a genlock, Alistair crossed the distance to the door, pushing it open and letting the party run in. Once everyone was inside he stepped in and Shale slammed it shut, using her hands to twist the iron handles into a knot just as the creatures began to bang on the door.

"It will not keep them out long, but it will do for now." She told them, turning her glowing blue eyes to her panting companions.

"Good enough. Thank you, Shale," Everil replied, wiping sweat from her brow while trying to catch her breath. "How are you faring, Wynne?"

The old mage tipped her head with a reassuring smile, out of breath herself. "I only need a minute."

"I'm afraid that is all we have," Everil said, giving her a pat on the shoulder as she took a few steps past her, gazing up at the ruins that spread out before them.

"This place is huge," Alistair uttered in amazement, standing next to Oghren as Everil approached them.

"Dwarven architecture at its finest. Caridin himself designed it," Oghren said proudly as he produced a flask of liquor from his bag. "It's a damned shame these sodded bastards took it from us." He grumbled and took a swig.

Everil crossed her arms, a frown creasing her brow. "How in Andraste's name did Branka make it through here?"

"She's a Paragon. And she's the most stubborn woman I've ever met. That should tell you how." Oghren snickered, then took another drink, his nose turning a shade of red as the alcohol took effect. His smirk then faded. "We got no map for this area here… we'll have to take our chances exploring."

Everil nodded. "We will avoid enemies as best we can. I don't want to waste time or risk any of us getting injured."

"And where's the fun in that?" He chuckled gruffly. "You're right though. As much as I like tearing these things apart, there's way too many here for just the six of us."

"You should come with us after we're done here. There are plenty to fight in the surface," Alistair said with a smile. "It might even make you feel homesick."

"Hrmph… you know, that actually sounds tempting. Never been to the surface," Oghren replied as he smirked up at him.

A loud bang interrupted them, followed by a deep growl as the doors behind them shook.

Everil scowled at the sound, turning her eyes to her companions. "Time's up. Let's go."

"Right behind you." Oghren put away his flask, then drew his axe, the smirk still upon his face.

xxxxxxx

They were walking through the ruins and through what appeared to be the resting place of several dead dwarves when they ran into more enemies, the narrow passages making it difficult to evade them. Everil kicked at a genlock, pushing it off her blades as a hurlock stepped over it to strike down at her, forcing her to block with both daggers. She shoved its sword aside and sliced sideways, cutting its throat while her companions defeated more of them, staining the walls with their blood.

Another snuck up behind her, trying to slash at her back, but she whirled around and dodged, using her momentum to cut its head off as more of them gathered behind them.

"We can't fight here! Keep moving!" She commanded, motioning for them to run ahead of her. Everil then went after them, the creatures chasing after her. While running she stepped on a loose tile and instantly heard a click, something she instantly knew meant bad news.

She let out a squeal and jumped forward onto her chest just in time to dodge a pair of large blades that snapped in a criss-cross. She turned around with wide eyes to see several darkspawn fall apart onto pools of blood, the blades retreating back to the wall like a hunter waiting for its next meal.

"Maker's breath!" Alistair rushed towards her, reaching down to her. "What was that!"

"A trap. As if this place was not welcoming enough," She replied with a frown as he gently pulled her up by the arm. "I suppose that's something more we will have to watch out for."

He sighed, his eyes on the growling darkspawn who seemed to hesitate over the dismembered bodies of their peers. "Well at least it'll keep them from following."

They emerged from the crypt and out to another open area, where large double doors stood towering over them. She made to open one of them, but her hand froze halfway before she slowly reached for her daggers to draw them out once more.

She turned around to face her companions. "More incoming."

As if on cue, two loud roars made her friends whirl around to see a pair of ogres emerging from opposite sides of the room.

"Aww damn it…" Alistair groaned.

One of them hunched over, preparing to charge.

"Run!" Everil shouted, and they did, scattering as the beast rushed them with its horns.

The last ogre she and Alistair defeated during the battle at Ostagar had been their first, and the monster was tough to take down. But they now had more numbers, and her companions were skilled enough to stand their ground.

"We should use the same tactic as last time," Alistair told her, his eyes still glued on the slowly approaching monsters.

"Right." Everil turned to her mage. "Wynne, can you freeze their legs?"

Wynne briefly eyed the enemy. "Their frames are too large, but I can slow them down."

"Do it." Everil then gazed to the others. "We will begin with our friend on the right. Aim for the knees. Make them buckle under its weight. Also, try not to let them grab you."

"Let's do this!" Oghren smirked and pulled out his axe.

Wynne cast the spell, freezing their enemy's legs and keeping both ogres from advancing. The others then charged, the monster letting out a growl as they began slashing at its knees. Shale gave its kneecap a punch, forcing it to buckle as the beast's blood splattered on the ground. Everil then took the chance, jumping on its bent knee and burying a dagger into its chest while stabbing the other through its mouth. It cried out and gurgled out blood as it fell onto its back.

They then moved on to the next, the creature swiping down in an attempt to grab Oghren, who jumped back to dodge it before striking at its knee. It roared in pain, then tried to swipe again, hitting only air. Everil stabbed her blades at the back of its leg, while Oghren swung his axe at the front. Roaring in agony, it fell on its knee with a hand on the ground before Oghren's axe met its throat, cutting its head off.

Everil nodded towards them with a small smile. "All right. We're done here. Let's keep moving." She put away her blades and walked back to the doors while they followed. She opened one of them, the smell that surged from within instantly making her stomach flop. She curled her nose and carefully stepped in, her eyes narrowing at the grizzly scene within.

Piles of seemingly rotten flesh covered the hallway that stretched before them, dried blood and gore upon the floors.

Wynne covered her mouth as they walked. "Maker… this is horrible."

"I wonder what happened here," Everil said quietly.

"I… don't really want to know." Alistair muttered uncomfortably.

A distant whimper had them stop in their tracks, reaching for their weapons.

" _Their screams ring in my ears as their flesh was torn from their bones."_

"Who's there?" Everil called out towards the end of the corridor, where it seemed to split into a T.

" _Her body bled as she was raped over and over… her cries muffled by their vile..."_

Oghren scowled. "I know that voice…"

They turned the corner to see a bigger mound of flesh and a dwarf kneeling before it, her back turned to them while she ate something in front of her. Feeling their eyes on her, she turned to look over her shoulder, a piece of decaying flesh hanging from her mouth.

Everil was forced to look away, her stomach twisting at the sight.

"Ancestor's balls… Hespith!" Oghren took a step, shocked at her appearance.

Alistair raised a brow, his face filled with disgust. "You… know her?"

"She's Branka's lover... the one she left me for when she found out she was more into women than men," Oghren replied, before casting his hard eyes upon her. "What the hell happened? Where's Branka!"

She swallowed her meal and stood, turning to face him. Her skin was as white as ash, while blisters lined her neck and forehead. It took her time to focus on them, and then spoke in a distant voice. "She left us."

"What do you mean she left you?" He scowled, his jaw tensing.

"The Anvil is her love now… even though I loved her so," She whispered, looking down at the floor with a lost look upon her face. "She left us all and called it a worthy sacrifice."

"What?" His anger melted into disbelief.

"One by one… the men became food… the women they raped and fed some of the men. They aim to turn us all into their mothers… and I lived because I didn't scream. Yet now I'm more dead than I am alive." As if in a trance, Hespith then walked past them, heading down the hall.

"Come on. She'll lead us to where Branka went." Oghren said as he walked ahead of them, following the dwarf.

"How can you be so sure?" Everil frowned as she walked behind him.

"She's the most loyal of the House. She may have lost it, but I'm sure that whatever mess Branka got herself into, she knows we can help her."

They quietly followed Hespith through the hallways, as she continued to speak to herself, describing the gruesome way in which her peers were killed. Everil couldn't help but feel sorry for the woman and the others. It was hard to believe a Paragon, someone who was chosen for helping the people of Orzammar, would leave her people to die in such a terrible way.

Hespith then turned a corner and suddenly disappeared, leaving the group near another set of doors.

Everil paused at the doorknob and then slowly turned it, suddenly feeling the presence of something within. And when she opened the door what she found inside chilled her to the core.

"Andraste's mercy…" Everil breathed as she stared at the monster, color draining from her face.

It cast its empty gaze upon them as it wiped drool from its mouth with its hand. Multiple breasts lined down its grotesquely large body, while large tentacles emerged from the mass at the lower part of its body. The stench in the room was nearly worse than that of the hall from which they had just emerged, making it difficult to breathe and increasingly hard to keep herself from hurling.

The creature appeared to strain, its tentacles reaching behind it to pull out a small body from the large mass of flesh that was her behind. It then let it drop to the ground as Everil's eyes grew wide.

"What in the sodding...?" Oghren muttered with a disgusted look.

It was a genlock that was barely able to walk, its body still covered in slime. Then the monster pulled another and another, each one latching onto its breast as the massive creature released a painful cry.

"Maker… this is… this is how darkspawn reproduce. They turn captured women into… that." Alistair swallowed, his own stomach struggling to take the scene before him. "Now everything that dwarf said makes sense."

Wynne closed her hands into fists. "The poor woman… No one deserves such fate."

"How does it plan for us to reach the door with it in the way? I highly doubt it will let us through without a fight," Shale told Everil with a nonchalant tone, obviously not bothered by what they were seeing.

Everil scowled, her eyes narrowing. "We kill her." She began walking as she drew her blades, drawing the creature's attention along with that of its offspring. She stopped while her companions approached behind her, her eyes gazing up at the monster as she spoke. "I won't let them keep using you like this!"

It roared at her, the toddler genlocks screeching with it before they detached themselves from it, charging towards them.

"Kill them all, then focus on the mother!" She commanded and then slashed down, cutting off the head of one of the creatures.

Wynne summoned a wave of flames that scorched a large number of them, while the others easily dispatched the rest. Seeing its children slaughtered, the brood mother released an ear piercing screech that made them all cover their ears.

Oghren gritted his teeth. "You bitch!"

Clicking her tongue, Everil kicked forth with her daggers at the ready, intent on shutting it up. It struck out with one of its tentacles, trying to smash her. She sidestepped to dodge, the force of the impact sending rocks shooting in every direction. She closed the distance and stabbed her daggers into its belly, making it roar as it tried to grab her with one of its tentacles.

Magnus pounced on it and closed his strong jaw on it, keeping it down and away from his mistress as he viciously shook it. Shale crossed the distance to the monster, pulling back her fist to punch a hole into its side as the brood mother screamed.

Upon hearing its wails, darkspawn began pouring into the breeding chamber, both hurlocks and genlocks jumping down from a passage above to then lift their weapons. The number of darkspawn swiftly separated them from her, swinging their weapons and forcing them back. Alistair blocked a jagged sword from a hurlock with his shield, pushing it aside to then swing his sword at its gut. He then pivoted on his foot to deflect another attack with his sword, then sliced the monster's neck, its blood spraying over him.

Everil kicked at another hurlock's feet, making it fall on the ground before she brought her blade down onto its chest. She then rose and struck at a genlock as she stood, cutting across its face as she spun and then stabbed her other blade into the side of its head.

From the back of the chamber, Wynne cast a fire spell that set several on fire, causing them to panic as they tried to put out the flames. Using the opportunity, Oghren cut down each one when suddenly something wrapped around his neck, lifting him off the ground as he let out a strangled cry.

"Oghren!" Everil called out, watching as the mother salivated, eying what was to be its next meal.

Cursing under her breath, Everil sheathed her blades and drew her bow, pulling an arrow and aiming it at the creature's head. "Drop the dwarf!" She shouted as she fired, sending the arrow flying towards the brood mother. It hit its forehead, burying itself deep into its skull as its tentacles unwrapped from around Oghren, dropping him on the ground.

She then put away her bow and drew her blades, rushing forth towards the agonizing creature. She jumped on one of the tentacles, then up towards the monster, climbing onto its back before bringing her blades in a crisscross to slice open the back of its neck, slicing apart its spine.

Finishing a spell, Wynne unleashed a searing wave of fire that burned all in its wake, her expert control over the flames keeping them focused upon their enemies. Then just as soon as it came, the fire died down, leaving nothing but piles of ash and twisted bodies. The old mage then fell on her knees, panting heavily.

"Well done."

She gazed up towards the golem, who reached down to gently pat her back. Wynne could only smile tiredly, too drained to speak.

"Is everyone all right?" Everil asked towards the others as she jumped down from the now dead monster, receiving a weak nod from Wynne and a happy bark from her hound.

Alistair walked up to the brood mother, gazing up as the creature hung its head, too large to fall over. To think this creature was once a normal, living person. He wondered how many of them were in the deep roads. How many others had fallen victim to such a fate. It made him feel sick just thinking about it.

"Now she lies dead."

Everil was helping Wynne stand when they heard her speak, turning their eyes up toward Hespith.

"How I loved her… I adored her. Yet she left me…she betrayed us all… Branka."

With that she disappeared once more, her whimpers echoing through the chamber.

xxxxxxx

Everil sighed tiredly. The concept of time underground was nonexistent, making it difficult to tell just how many hours they had spent in the deep roads. It wouldn't surprise her if it had been an entire day by now, considering how exhausted she felt. They were all tired, but this was not the place to fall sleep and rest, not even for Grey Wardens. She wanted to get what they were looking for and go back to Orzammar.

Take a bath. Eat. Sleep.

She yawned involuntarily. "Damn it..."

"I can relate," Wynne said next to her.

Everil gave her a concerned look. "You used up much of your energy back there. How are you holding up?"

"I will be fine," The old woman replied with a small smile. "Though I may not be able to cast another spell for some time."

Everil nodded. "I will make note of that. Just stay clear of any enemies until you can. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Understood, my lady," Wynne said, casting a gentle smile upon the young woman.

After walking through the cave the rock began to turn into marble walls, tall columns towering over them.

"This place looks familiar," Shale commented, looking around at the ancient writing on the walls.

A distant laugh made them pause, the sound of a battle reaching their ears.

"There are darkspawn ahead," Alistair told them, reaching for his sword.

Everil frowned. "But who's fighting them?"

There was another laugh, much clearer.

"That's…" Oghren took a step, surprise dawning upon him. He then took off, running ahead of them as they followed behind him.

They stepped out of the cave to find several darkspawn lay dead, and beside them dwarves who appeared to have died recently enough that their bodies had yet to decay. The group then turned their heads toward another bout of laughter. A dwarven woman stood behind a barricade and on higher ground, grinning maniacally as she stared back. Everil narrowed her eyes, more angry than glad to have finally found the Paragon.

"Oghren. Did you come to help me find the anvil?" Branka spoke with a smile. "I'm so close I can smell it."

"What in the ancestors' names have you done!" Oghren looked upon the dwarves, some who he recognized, their blood staining the ground. "You… your entire house is dead!"

"They knew what they were getting themselves into. Each of their lives were spent for a worthy cause." She folded her arms and lifted her chin, a snide smile still on her lips. "When I find the Anvil I will bring forth another golden era for Orzammar. We will be more powerful than ever! We could even take back what was lost to these bastards."

"Fool."

Branka turned her gaze towards Everil, her smile faltering at the cold look the woman was giving her.

"You saw their numbers. There is nothing you can do to defeat the darkspawn and you know it," Everil uttered angrily, her hands closing into fists. "But instead of saving your people from certain death, you chose to use them as bait in order to make it this far. And they did as you wished, blindly throwing their lives away because they worshipped you."

"I take it you ran into Hespith," Branka said, her smile fading as a saddened expression crossed her face. But it was quickly replaced with a hard gaze. "She wanted to pull out. She wanted me to quit. To the point where some were planning mutiny. So I did what I had to." She glared at her, her face twisting. "And who the hell are you? A Grey Warden?"

"That's right. Your king has died and I was sent by Lord Harrowmont to look for you in order to help him become the next king of Orzammar," Everil replied coolly. "But I must say I regret wasting my time like this."

Branka laughed. "They could put a monkey on the throne for all I care! My only concern is the Anvil. So yes, you did waste your time, Warden. I won't be leaving here until I find it!" She then turned her back to them, making her way up the trail she had been standing on.

"Branka!" Oghren called after her, but was ignored as he watched her disappear into a passage above. "That stupid woman!" He punched the nearest metal barricade angrily, gritting his teeth.

Everil's expression softened. "Was she always like this?"

He took a breath. "Yeah… she was passionate to the point of obsession. Always spending her days working to achieve the perfect creation. But that's what made her the best at her trait… that's what made her a Paragon." He turned his head to look up at her. "As a Paragon she has to make tough choices when it's necessary. I'm sure you of all people can understand that."

"Sacrificing your people like this is inexcusable. There is always another way," Everil told him sternly as she began to walk. "Come on, let's follow her."

Oghren gave her a puzzled look. "You want to keep risking your skin, even after all this?"

She paused and turned to look over her shoulder. "Do you still want to save her?"

He cast his eyes to the dirt. "Yeah… I do."

"Then our only choice is to help her find the Anvil and drag her out of here along with it," She uttered and continued on, her companions walking behind her as he stared in bewilderment at her retreating back.

The Wardens had bigger problems than helping the dwarves choose the new king, but despite feeling strongly about what Branka had done, she was still willing to help. Perhaps they truly needed the dwarven forces against the Blight, but even then they could have simply returned to Orzammar without the Paragon, told the Assembly she had perished and found another way.

He didn't know these people all that well, but he was beginning to realize why she was the one leading them.

When they neared the cave more darkspawn crawled out of it, charging on while they quickly put them down. Everil pushed through them, cutting down any in her path and advancing towards the next room. Soon they found themselves inside another building, ancient walls with dwarven symbols carved upon them. Statues stood at each side like sentinels, looking onto the passage with cold stares.

They crossed to a door on the other side and Everil reached out to it to find it locked. And as she did a strange gas erupted from the ground, the path they came from also sliding shut and leaving them trapped within. Movement behind them had them turn around to see the statues come to life, their glowing blue eyes gazing their way. The statues stomped onto them, a glowing symbol upon their forehead as they prepared their fists.

"Golems…?" Shale uttered in disbelief.

"Stall them while I shut down the gas!" Everil shouted as she ran to the valves, dodging a punch from one of the golems. Shale punched it, drawing its attention away from the Warden while she stormed towards the nearest valve.

Everil turned the valve until it let out a click, shutting down one of the gas pipes. She moved on the next as her companions kept the golems busy, dodging their hits while the stone men broke through columns and made craters on the floor. One hit could kill any of them, but Shale kept them at bay, punching aside their fists and striking them in the chest, knocking them onto the floor.

By the time she closed the last valve, the golems lay motionless, the gas settling as they made their way to the door. Finding it unlocked, she opened it and stepped out, closing it behind them. When they walked out more golems turned to face them, and ahead of them a larger golem stood, towering over the rest of them.

Branka stood before it, a shining rod in her hand.

"I have conquered all you have thrown at me! And now I have conquered you! Hand over the Anvil of the Void!"

The larger golem rose tall, lifting its chin as it looked down upon her. "You seek my invention while ignorant to the price. I shall not allow it."

"That's… Caridin?" Oghren took a step, his eyes wide in awe.

"We can benefit from the Anvil. We can become as strong as we were in ancient times!" She protested stubbornly, meeting his gaze.

Caridin's attention then shifted to Everil. "You. You must help me. The Anvil must not leave here. It will bring ruin to those who use it."

Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"We were in desperate need for a solution against the darkspawn. I created the Anvil and used it to build our army of golems. My children...Their creation was a mystery to the dwarven peoples, except for my king." He glanced towards the golems standing beside him. "The truth is that to bring life to something that has none, one must transfer another's soul. And I made hundreds, using the lives of brave dwarves who volunteered to fight against the darkspawn."

"What…?" Everil whispered in disbelief, her eyes shifting to Shale, who held a similar expression to hers.

"That's right... I-I was once a dwarf… One who gave up everything to fight for her people," Shale uttered with a troubled tone. "The memories are coming back to me now."

"Soon a river of blood was all that flowed through these very chasms, and burdened by it all, I swore never to forge another golem. My king didn't take kindly to my refusal to build more golems, so he had my apprentices turn me into one, only they were not experienced enough to fashion a control rod for me. What is left of my children and I have remained here since, in hopes that no one would find us, some of us shackled by the staff she now wields." His booming voice was filled with regret, his gaze downcast. "Now you know why I cannot allow for anyone to take the Anvil. I tried destroying it, but no golem can raise their fists against it."

"The ramblings of an old fool."

They turned their gaze towards Branka.

"If you will not give it to me willingly, then I will take the Anvil by force." She smirked, drawing her sword from her hip while raising the rod.

"Stop it!" Everil stalked towards her, standing between her and the golems. "You heard what he said. This is not a game, Branka!"

"And who said it was! I want to make the ultimate creation! To give Orzammar its mighty weapons once more!"

"By harming more of your kin!" Everil snapped, her sky blue eyes piercing the dwarve's brown ones. "You've gone mad! Do you not see it?"

In a flash the dwarf's sword pointed to her throat, yet she stood her ground, unflinching.

"How cute that you think I give a damn about what you think." Branka's psychotic gaze intensified as she spoke, her tone dripping with poison. "Now get out of my way, Warden. Unless you want my slaves to pummel you into dust."

"For Ancestor's sake... Let her have the damn thing," Oghren said, his shoulders tensing.

"No." Everil narrowed her eyes, her hands reaching for her weapons. "I will not allow her to bring such a thing into Orzammar. No more dwarves will be sacrificed."

"Have it your way… kill them!" Branka shouted as the rod glowed blue, the golems around them etching closer as they rose their fists.

Shale ran towards the one closest to the Warden, punching its face to drive it away from her. Meanwhile Everil focused on Branka, locking weapons with her.

Oghren hesitated with a stiff jaw as he gritted his teeth. The one he once loved and respected had lost her mind, becoming a danger to them and those in Orzammar. There was no doubt the Warden would stop her at any cost.

"Branka give up! These people can kill you!" He shouted, while the others around him battled the golems.

"Never!" Branka struck with her sword, narrowly missing Everil as she leaned back, then slashed at her chest, making her jump back. The Warden then kicked her stomach, sending her falling to the ground.

Everil was on her in an instant, pressing her knife to her throat. "Give me the rod. Now." She uttered as she looked down at the dwarf.

"Bitch…" Branka narrowed her eyes. "You think you can defeat a Paragon that easily?"

"Warden!" Oghren shouted as he drew his axe.

The shadow of a golem then loomed above them and Everil looked over her shoulder to see it draw back its arm. She clicked her tongue and swiftly rolled out of the way and onto a knee, dodging the golem's massive hand. The golem then struck down, trying to squish her and forcing her to hop back.

Caridin then grabbed it from behind, holding it back. "Hurry Warden! Take the rod away from her!"

Oghren swung his axe at Branka, who blocked with her sword.

"You should join me Oghren. Together we could bring forth a new era to the dwarves," She muttered, her arm shaking as Oghren pressed down on her.

A mixture of anger and anguish filled his eyes at her words. "This isn't right, Branka! Just stop and think for a minute!"

"You disappoint me." She pushed against him, breaking the deadlock and striking at his chest. Sparks flew as her blade left a gash upon his armor, his eyes widening as he took a step back.

Branka then prepared another attack, ready to slash at him again when suddenly she jerked forward and coughed, blood sliding down the corner of her lip.

Everil gazed down at her with both anger and regret before she pulled her dagger from the dwarf's back, letting her fall forward as she took the rod from her hand. Then holding it tightly, she lifted it, halting the movements of the golems around them.

"Branka…" Oghren knelt before her, his hand resting upon her head as her lifeless eyes stared back at him.

"I'm sorry, Oghren," Everil spoke with her back to him, her hand holding her dagger tightly.

"Me too…" The dwarf muttered, his eyes downcast.

Alistair looked on from where he stood by one of the golems, a concerned look upon his brow. He knew she had been trying to help him, that coming here wasn't only about obtaining the Paragon to help with the election. And it was obvious Oghren still loved Branka despite their separation

Everil began walking towards Caridin, who stood by the Anvil, a hammer in his hand. Stopping mere steps from him, she gazed up at the ancient Paragon.

"The Anvil must be destroyed. Please end this." Caridin's deep voice was etched with agony as his glowing eyes met hers.

"Before I destroy the Anvil, I need you to help me," Everil sternly told him.

"A favor for a favor, I see. What is it you seek?"

"Orzammar has no king at the moment, and two contenders seeks the crown. I need a Paragon's help to elect the next king."

"I understand. I will use the Anvil one last time to make a crown for the candidate of your choice. I need not know his name nor I care. My time here has come and gone." He turned around, stepping towards the Anvil and drawing out a piece of molten metal from the furnace. "He should consider himself privileged, for he will possess my very last creation."

He then slammed down his mighty hammer, sparks of hot metal flying with each hit as the piece slowly took shape.

Oghren quietly watched the Paragon work from afar, a resolute expression upon his battle worn features as his heart twisted painfully. He didn't know if he should feel angry or grateful, but the conflicting emotions only added to his grief. He had lost Branka once more, and there was nothing he could have done to stop it.

"Those in Orzammar will remember her for who she was," Alistair said quietly as he walked up to him, folding his arms.

"You may be right... provided they don't find out what happened here." He sighed. "Guess your fellow Warden made the right decision."

"Not lightly... Everil tried to save her, but she left her no choice," Alistair uttered, his eyes shifting to her back, noticing the subtle slump on her shoulders.

Oghren produced the flask of liquor from his bag, took a swig and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I know..."

Once done Caridin handed her the crown. "I have fulfilled my end of the bargain." He then offered her his hammer. "Now please fulfill yours."

She took a moment to tie the crown to her belt, and then took the large hammer with both hands.

Shale watched in silence as the Warden stepped up to the Anvil that had cursed her to an eternity of living in an immortal body. A body that was intended for servitude to those who once wielded her control rod, and one in which she felt more like a prisoner. In a way, this woman was bringing them closure and putting an end to the only instrument capable of bringing the same fate to others.

Everil raised the hammer high above her head, and with a cry she brought it down with all her might. A crack split the Anvil from where the hammer hit, shining bright blue before the metal shattered into pieces, crumbling to the ground as if it were made of glass.

She let the hammer drop at her side as she gazed down at the ruble, Caridin's booming voice reaching her ears as he stepped past her and towards the edge of the cliff.

"Thank you... I wish you luck in your quest against the Blight, Grey Warden."

She watched him cast himself into the river of lava below, while the other golems systematically followed him.

Shale walked up to her, standing beside her as they looked over the edge.

"You won't join them?" Everil uttered quietly.

"No… I have found my purpose."

"You have?" She gazed up at her. "What is it?"

"Helping… you… defeat the Blight."

Everil let a corner of her lip go up. They then made their way back through the ruins, leaving the deep roads behind and carrying the crown that would bring victory to Orzammar's new king.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter XVIII

Upon their arrival from the deep roads, the Assembly was called once more. This time Everil stood at the center of the chamber, acting as the messenger from Paragon Cardin, her hands holding the crown that was to be worn by his chosen king. Her companions stood at the sidelines, still covered in blood and sweat from their last endeavor, just as she was. They were all tired, but she wanted nothing else than to put an end to this and move on to achieving their original goal: Obtaining the dwarven forces to fight the Blight.

"Grey Warden Everil. You say you speak in the name of Paragon Caridin?" One of the Assembly members spoke first, his scrutinizing eyes upon her.

Her firm gaze had not a glint of doubt. "Yes. I spoke to him in the deep roads while searching for Paragon Branka."

"How is that even possible? Caridin may be a Paragon, but he disappeared centuries ago. He having been alive still is… doubtful," A female Assembly member said with skepticism.

"He was turned into a golem and was guarding the Anvil of the Void."

"And the Anvil of the Void? And Paragon Branka?"

"The Anvil turned out to be a monstrous creation that even Caridin himself wanted gone. He crafted this crown with it one last time before asking me to destroy it in his stead, for his golem form would not allow him to do so," She replied confidently and then her eyes briefly glanced to the floor. "As for Paragon Branka…"

Oghren listened intently, his bushy brows meeting at the bridge of his nose.

"We only found their bodies. I can confirm they gave their lives valiantly trying to reach the Anvil of the Void, in hopes to bring its power back to the people of Orzammar."

His eyes widened. There was no reason for her to lie, but she sought to keep Branka's image as that of a hero, rather than bring forth that she had gone mad with ambition. A pat on his shoulder had him glance up towards Alistair, who offered him a firm nod of his head. He replied with a nod of his own, a small smile on his lips.

"Such a shame… we could have used the Anvil, and Paragon Branka was one of our best." Another Assembly member shook his head, a saddened look upon his wrinkled face. "She will be honored, as all Paragons should."

"That still does not prove that what you say about Paragon Caridin is true," The female from before spoke once more, casting a scrutinizing look upon her. "How can you prove to us that what you speak is the truth?"

Everil walked up to the Assembly member standing before her below, handing him the crown. "See for yourself."

He gingerly took it, his old fingers inspecting the details of the crown. "By the Ancestors…"

"What is it Bandelor?" The woman asked with a raised brow.

"She speaks the truth… this was forged by Caridin himself! His insignia is right here, molded into the metal." He gave the crown to her, her eyes growing wide upon seeing the trademark symbol of the infamous Paragon.

"I… cannot believe it," She whispered in awe before her eyes shifted back to her. "So Warden… Who did Caridin choose?"

Never before had she processed the ability to influence the political processes of a country in such a way, but from her dealings with him, she was confident that Harrowmont had the temperance to rule Orzammar and its people. She glanced towards the man in question, his sage eyes meeting hers from his position at the side of the chamber.

Now she only had to speak.

"He chose Lord Harrowmont."

"What!" Prince Bhelen stood from his chair, angrily glaring at her.

"Silence, Bhelen," Bandelor said sharply, then another in the Assembly spoke.

"Lord Harrowmont, step forth."

Harrowmont walked past Everil and towards the center, taking a knee before Bandelor.

"The Paragon has chosen you to wield the crown of the mighty Kingdom of Orzammar and its people upon your shoulders. Bow before your new king." He laid the crown upon his head, then his booming voice proclaimed. "King Pyral Harrowmont of Orzammar."

"I won't allow it!" Prince Bhelen drew his sword, charging towards Harrowmont with a cry.

Everil darted forth, drawing her dagger and blocking his attack before he could reach the king. She gazed down at him coolly, her eyes narrowing at the savage look he was casting upon her.

One of the Assembly members stood, slamming his hand onto his chair. "Bhelen! Pointing your blade at your king is considered treason! Stand down!"

"You should do as they say. We went through a lot of trouble to place someone on the throne. I am not about to let you kill him," Everil uttered, her calm tone carrying an edge.

"Bite me!" He spit out. "Charge!"

More men appeared from behind curtains in the chamber, running towards her and Harrowmont, only to be cut off by her party. Alistair immediately ran one through, while Magnus pounced upon another from behind. Shale swung at two others, sending them flying to slam against a wall, and Oghren swung his axe, cutting down another.

Everil kicked at the dwarf's knee, breaking his stance before slashing at his neck, cutting it open as his blood sprayed upon the floor. She then put away her weapons to look over her shoulder at a relieved Harrowmont.

"Are you all right, your Majesty?" Everil quietly asked.

He paused for a moment at the honorific, and then nodded slowly.

"Fools!" The female Assembly member from before gritted her teeth. "Disrespecting our chamber in such a way… Take their wretched bodies out of here!"

The guards put away their own weapons and did as they were told, taking hold of the still bleeding dwarves and the dead.

"Something else I must thank you for, Warden," Harrowmont said before reaching out for a handshake. "You will have Orzammar's forces in the Blight, as promised. And you will always be welcomed in Orzammar."

She smiled and shook his hand. "My thanks, your Highness."

Everil then turned around and headed for the door, her companions following behind her. Now all that was left was to gather the rest of her party and prepare for yet another journey ahead. With the dwarves helping, their chances of defeating the Blight were favorable. But there was one more army they needed, which was perhaps the most powerful and yet just as difficult to obtain.

The humans.

xxxxxxx

"Ancestor's balls… You people don't feel like you're falling into the sky?"

Leliana chuckled. "Is that how you feel?"

Oghren stared up in wonder, watched the clouds float above them. "I mean… the blue is pretty and all. But damn it's so… big."

They were riding their horses down the mountain, with Oghren sharing the ride with Zevran after having volunteered to come along. They had left Orzammar later than Everil anticipated, due to their inability to tell time while underground. Which meant they would likely have just enough time to reach the bottom of the mountain and travel a couple miles south before nightfall.

She gazed down at the map while still holding her horse's reins, her eyes on the mark she placed upon it based on the letter they found in Denerim. Haven was nestled further down the Frostback Mountains, in the southern peaks. The higher elevations meant it would be cold, much like the outskirts of Orzammar, if not more. She hoped getting there would not be as difficult as she expected, considering she had never heard of the place or seen it in any maps.

"Are you certain we should seek out these ashes? I say 'tis a wild goose chase," Morrigan spoke beside her, her yellow eyes still looking on at their path.

Everil folded the map and then stashed it in her side pouch. "If they can help save Arl Eamon, I say it is worth a shot. We need him if we want to gather the human forces we need."

"Provided we find them, what exactly makes you think they will work? For all you know, they could simply be the ashes of a phony whose existence was made holy for the sole purpose of controlling the masses."

"You know Morrigan, you sure doubt a lot for someone who can set things on fire and visit the Fade in your sleep," Alistair commented, riding at the other side of his fellow Warden.

"My abilities do not prove nor validate your Chantry's teachings, Alistair. Your faith remains riddled with deceit."

He raised a brow. "How can you be so sure they're all lies?"

"'Tis quite simple, really. Your faith is manmade and men lie." She gave him a sideward glance. "Such believes only remain thanks to fools such as yourself—too blind and stupid to question. 'Tis quite sad."

He sent her a dirty look. "I do question. I may have been raised in the Chantry, but I'm not particularly religious. If anything living there made me aware of how much is wrong with it."

Morrigan's scoffed. "And yet you hold the same views about apostates and malefecarum as they do. You are not as open-minded as you believe, templar."

"Well we can't all be as perfect as you are, Morrigan," He countered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Everil shook her head at the two. "Regardless, we don't have any options. We will just have to hope the legend is true." She anticipated it would be a couple more days before they could reach the village, provided they didn't run into any trouble on the way. After several hours of travel night was beginning to fall, the colors of the sky changing to the orange, red and yellow hues.

They set up camp near a creek, and Leliana had offered to do the hunting for their dinner. Meanwhile others sat by the newly lit fire, having idle conversation and answering Oghren's constant questions about the surface. With the exception of Morrigan, who sat on her separate side of camp, her cat-like eyes reflecting the glare of the flames. She stoically glanced towards the group before she returned her attention to her mother's grimoire and to the dark secrets still hidden within its pages.

Past the tree line, Everil knelt by the creek, which carried fresh water from the icy mountain, better tasting than that of the lakes further south. She took off her gloves and set them on the ground before taking her leather canteen from her hip. She refilled it and clasped it back on her belt, then reached up to unclasp her collar. She spread it apart to expose her neck and part of her chest, letting out a sigh as the cool air touched her skin. The lower they went, the warmer it became, making her warm weather lining less comfortable. It didn't help that her body still felt sore from their trip to the deep roads, her muscles stiff from what seemed like a day and a half of fighting without rest.

She leaned over to cup cool water into her bare hands, zipping on some of the crisp liquid before splashing the rest upon her face. She rolled her head back and to the side, gently running her wet fingers down her neck and under her ears. She released a soft breath as her shoulders relaxed, the tension of the last couple of days slightly lifting.

Taking her gloves in one hand, she stood with a huff, tugging her hair behind her ear with the other. She turned around and paused when she found him casually leaning his shoulder against a tree, watching her intently with a small smile on his lips.

Everil felt her heart skip a beat under the intensity of his stare, her mouth suddenly running dry. "How long have you been standing there?"

"I don't know," He replied huskily. "I find it difficult to keep track of time when I look at you."

"Flatterer," She uttered with a chuckle, heat rising to her cheeks as she approached him.

Alistair took a step towards her and softly stroked her cheek, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. "Are you feeling well? You hardly slept last night."

She smiled sadly at him. "Visiting the deep roads was more than a little unsettling."

With a concerned look, he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into a tight embrace. She returned the hug, closing her eyes as the cool metal of his chest plate pressed against her cheek. His arms immediately helped make her feel better as she drew in his earthly scent.

"It will be many years before we have to go back there. I know it's hard, but try not to think about it," He uttered quietly, gently stroking her back

"I wish we didn't have to go back at all," She whispered before moving back to gently kiss his lips, her hands sliding to his chest as he leaned his forehead against hers.

He took one of her hands in his as he reluctantly pulled away. "Let's head back to camp. We all need some rest."

She let him lead her back through the woods, her eyes upon the back of his head as the corners of her lips went up.

They arrived to camp and joined the group by the fire, sitting close to each other. As they did Leliana returned from the woods, carrying three hares in one hand and herbs in the other. Wynne helped prepare them for cooking, skinning and gutting the animals while Leliana used herbs to season the meat. They chuckled lightly as they worked, discussing the events that transpired while they were away exploring the deep roads.

"Lies. I didn't get that drunk," Zevran protested with indignation, sending Leliana a mock glare.

"Tell that to the poor dwarven lady who had to drag you back to the inn," Leliana said teasingly. "I must say… you are not as charming when puking your guts into a bucket, Zevran."

"Ahh I remember now. Vaguely." He grinned. "What can I say? I was worried sick about our friends."

"It sounds like you made that quite literal." Wynne smiled lightly as she shook her head. At the very least the others didn't have to experience what they did.

"I was worried too. You were all gone for so long, I began to fear the worse," Leliana uttered, her smile fading. "Morrigan did not help... her brutal honesty is not very reassuring."

Alistair shrugged his shoulders. "You guys didn't miss much. We killed more darkspawn. Nothing we haven't done already."

Oghren lowered his ale flask and wiped his mouth as he glanced their way, noticing they were purposely keeping the details to themselves. He had to admit seeing the brood mother was something he would never forget, especially knowing it had once been one of his kind, and someone he may have known personally. Surely talking about it would only remind them of how sinister the very monsters they were trying to defeat truly were.

"What matters is that we all made it back in one piece," Wynne spoke quietly, giving the sister a pat on the shoulder. "Now help me put these over the fire, dear."

After supper the sky darkened, the stars twinkling above. Oghren gazed up at it as he drank, leaning back in silent contemplation while Leliana's soft voice filled the air, along with the soothing melody of her lute. Wynne had long gone to sleep, saying something about how age affects your ability to remain awake at night.

Alistair stared intently at the fire, absently twirling a blade of grass between his fingers as he listened to the bard's song. It was a peaceful night, a welcomed change to the chaotic few days they had running errands for a dwarven lord. It felt good seeing the sky and having the ability to tell night from day again.

Now they could work on helping Arl Eamon.

He had been thinking about it since they left Orzammar. If things worked in their favor, they would not only save the man who practically raised him, but also the only man who could unite Ferelden and cast away the traitor who destroyed their order and nearly killed them.

Morrigan's earlier words crossed his mind. There was a real possibility that they could be chasing a fable, or that they were about to waste more precious time on something that would prove ineffective on whatever ailed the arl. But despite their constant battles with uncertainty and their brushes with death, they had been fortunate. He hoped their luck would continue to hold up in the days to come.

The sound of someone yawning next to him drew his attention away from the dancing flames to Everil, who was wiping a tear out of her tired eyes. Leliana's music then stopped when she yawned as well, letting out a chuckle and a quiet apology.

"You lot should get some sleep. I'll pull guard duty." Oghren offered, taking a swig of his drink.

Zevran gently poked at the fire with a stick, turning the coals as he glanced towards the dwarf with a grin. "Are you certain of that? You look merry enough to fall over yourself."

"I may be merry, but—" He hiccupped and then burped loudly. "—No one will get past me without my axe meeting their arse."

He grinned. "Perhaps I will stay up with you, my friend. I believe I had enough sleep in Orzammar."

Everil then rose, stretching her arms. "Thank you both of you."

After saying her good night, Leliana left for her tent. Alistair and Everil did the same. He offered to walk with her, while her hound followed them closely.

Upon reaching her tent he took her hand in his, grinning down at her. "As much as I don't want to, I think it would be better if I sleep in my tent tonight. You need your rest and I might just try to keep you up again."

"Oh... all right," She said as she smiled lightly in return.

He brought her hand up to his lips, gently kissing her fingers. "Good night, my love."

"Good night..."

She watched him turn around and take a step, and before she could help herself, she reached out and took his hand.

His brows went up as he faced her again, giving her a quizzical look. "Something wrong?"

"A-actually…" She bit her lip, her eyes downcast. "Can you spend the night again tonight? I… I sleep better when you're with me."

His gaze softened. "Because of the nightmares?"

She nodded. "I had a terrible time sleeping last night, and you were with me. I don't want to be alone if I wake up like that again."

"All right then." He gave her a lopsided smile. "I suppose that instead of… keeping you up… I could just stare at you while you sleep." He paused for a moment. "Huh… That sounded creepy."

She chuckled, opening the flap of her tent. "A little… still adorable, however."

"At least you think so." He smiled, following her inside as Magnus lay down at the door.

Upon watching the two enter the tent, Oghren snickered from afar and took a drink, the hot liquid burning his throat. He wiped his mouth. "So they're in that type of relationship..."

Zevran didn't answer, his eyes still focused on the dancing flames.

xxxxxxx

It was still the middle of the night when Magnus began to bark, startling her. Everil frowned in puzzlement, sleep still numbing her senses. In moments the sound of blades clashing outside the tent reached her ears, setting off alarms in her head as her eyes grew wide. Then the arm that had been securely wrapped around her waist disappeared when Alistair quickly sat up, reaching for his sword.

"And I was sleeping well for once," He grumbled moodily, pushing himself up from the furs and stepping to the tent's door. "Who is it now?"

"Not darkspawn," She uttered as she grabbed her weapons and stood. Fortunately they still wore their armor, having been too tired to undress for the night.

They both rushed outside as her hound tackled a man who got too close to their tent, biting off his throat. Everil gave her dog a quick nod before running towards the next incoming attacker, letting him swing and dodging to use his body's forward motion to run him through. Meanwhile Alistair cut down another behind her.

Oghren let out a battle cry as he swung his axe, slicing a man in half before seeing them approach. "Who are these sodded bastards?"

"You didn't ask them?" Everil replied as she stabbed another man.

"I would stop moving if I were you, Grey Wardens!"

Their group stopped fighting as one of their attackers walked up from behind one of the tents, roughly dragging someone by the arm.

When they came into the light, Leliana's voice cut through the laughter of the enemies left standing. "Wynne!"

The man she assumed was their leader chuckled darkly, his eyes focusing upon the two Wardens. "It seems the rumors of you lot traveling to these parts were true after all."

Everil's eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"

"Your heads—" He snickered. "—and the nice bounty King Loghain put on them."

"Considering your odds of survival, you're all either brave or stupid. And I'm leaning towards stupid," Alistair responded with a humorless smile.

"Is the coin truly worth the risk?" Everil added.

"You're in no position to make threats." He pressed his blade to Wynne's pale neck.

"Speak for yourself."

A sharp knife to his jugular made the man freeze, his hold on Wynne faltering.

Zevran casually smirked. "Kindly release the lady… I would hate to have to stain her pretty robe with your blood."

He gulped. "Fine." He did as he was told, his hands dropping to his sides. Wynne quickly moved away, but Zevran kept his knife at his throat.

The man gazed towards Everil with nervous eyes. "You win. Let me go and I'll take my men with me."

The elf smiled at Everil. "What say you, my lady?"

The Warden eyed him and his men. He had cowardly attacked while they slept. And he took an old woman hostage, fully intending to kill her in order to get to them and the coin his vestiges told her he didn't need. Such a person would surely place greed ahead of his word and one more look at the glint in his eye confirmed it.

"Kill them," She ordered coolly.

"Wha—"

His blood sprayed the air and then hit the grass, painting the green red. Soon after, the rest of his men lay dead, their bodies littering their camp.

"I am beginning to think that perhaps we should have let them go. It will be difficult to go back to sleep with dead bodies everywhere," Leliana commented, leaning down to clean her knife with the clothes of one of her kills.

"Had we not disposed of them now, they would have surely returned later." Everil then gazed up to the sky. "It will be sunrise soon. I suppose we could use this time to continue our journey to Haven."

She then turned her gaze towards Wynne, her features softening. "Are you all right?"

The mage smiled. "Yes. Thank you for your help."

"You should thank Zevran instead," She said as she motioned to elf, returning the smile.

Zevran grinned, put away his weapons and performed an elaborate bow before the Warden. "I merely did as my mistress commanded."

Alistair scowled and rolled his eyes.

"Are you Wardens hunted fugitives or something?" Oghren muttered with surprise.

"It's a long story…" Everil answered quietly.

They proceeded to pick up their camp while they told the dwarf what happened from the beginning. And she found it felt surreal to talk about how much they experienced and how many battles they won. Some parts of the story even sounded like something out of a storybook or a well-written play, which also made her realize just how much they struggled throughout all of it.

After packing they continued on, with the Wardens leading the way.

It took them a couple of days to reach the mountain upon which the village sat and the weather quickly cooled once more, small amounts of snow covering the grass and trees.

Ahead of them, a stone gateway could be seen, and as they continued on, small huts began to appear. The place was much more secluded than expected, surrounded by miles of wilderness. It was also separated from the rest of Ferelden by the mountains around it and the cheer altitude it sat upon. She realized why no one knew of its existence.

They reached the gateway to find a guard posted at the front, wearing armor she had never seen in any of the stores they visited throughout their travels.

"Greetings," Everil spoke first as she halted her horse a few steps from him. "Is this Haven?"

He gave them a suspicious look, his grip on his spear tightening. "It is. And we do not take kindly to visitors from the lowlands. What is it you want, strangers?"

"Sheesh… warm fellow, isn't he?" Alistair mumbled beside her, earning a sharp look from the guard.

Everil met the guard's gaze, unfazed by the obvious hostility in his eyes. "We are looking for Brother Genitivi. He left a message behind stating he would be visiting this village. Is he still here?"

"There is no one here by that name. Now I suggest you turn around and head back down to where you belong before things go badly for you."

Magnus growled, poking his head around her from his spot upon her horse's rump.

She lifted a hand to her hound, her eyes still upon the guard. "May we have a word with your village leader? It's imperative we find Genitivi. Any information will help."

"Father Eirik is currently busy with the daily sermon at the town's Chantry. He shall not be disturbed."

"What? 'Tis the first I have heard of a male leading a Chantry… interesting," Morrigan commented with a raised brow.

"All right…" Everil paused for a moment, then an idea came to mind. "Then may we at least trade at your shops? We are in need of supplies after our long journey here."

The guard seemed to consider her proposition, then nodded. "Yes. But only trade, and quickly. Once done you must leave immediately."

She glanced to the others. "Understood."

They dropped off their horses in the outskirts of the village before heading in, the guard giving them a scrutinizing look the entire time. The village was small and quiet, with only a few kids wandering the streets. An uncomfortable feeling poked at the back of her mind, telling her something was wrong about the place. And if there was anything she had learned from her past experiences, it was to trust her gut.

"Where is everyone?" Leliana spoke quietly, gazing around as they walked.

"If there's a sermon then maybe they're all at the Chantry?" Alistair replied with a shrug, he then turned to Everil. "Which brings me to ask… you didn't intend for us to just trade and leave, did you?"

She playfully smirked at him. "Of course not."

"Wow… beautiful _and_ sneaky. Nice." He grinned back.

"Then perhaps we should make haste," Wynne said with a frown. "That guard's words made me… uneasy. Maker knows they may have done something to this Genitivi."

"Way ahead of you," Everil uttered as she looked up towards the tall building at the top of a steep hill, Andraste's symbol shining upon it.

xxxxxxx

The doors to the Chantry opened and they stepped inside as those within turned to face them with blank stares. Realizing they were outsiders, their eyes darkened and their bodies tensed, obviously bothered by their presence. But Everil ignored them, her attention upon the man at the center of the group.

"You have interrupted our daily sermon. Quite rude." Eirik's wrinkled face scrunched into a scowl, his eyes narrowing at the intruders. "But I can tell you are not one of us, so I shall let this one slide. Why have you come to our peaceful village, strangers?"

"Our apologies for disrupting your sermon… Father. I shall save us some time and go to the point," Everil sternly said and folded her arms. "We seek a man by the name of Brother Genitivi. We know he came to this village. Where is he?"

"Watch your tone, outsider!" One of the women snapped, giving her a dirty look.

"Now, now, my child. It's quite all right," Eirik uttered gently, then put his arms behind his back, lifting his chin as he turned his sharp eyes to her. "As you have seen, we like to live our lives apart from the rest of the world. It is how we maintain our traditions and our blood pure of safe from corruption in the lowlands. We do not share our village's location with anyone from the outside. Therefore, whoever this man is may have given you bad directions, which inadvertently brought you here."

"I do not believe so, Father." Everil's eyes hardened, her patience wearing thin. "You see… several knights sent to look for him went missing and never returned. We also happened to stumble upon a group of men who tried to kill us when we found Genitivi's letter—In his house, mind you. I have a feeling there is a connection."

His gaze remained calm, but his shoulders stiffened.

She continued. "Now, allow me to be blunt: I do not care about what your people do here. I simply want to find the man we are looking for and be on my way. So please, just tell me the truth."

He scowled. "I suppose nothing I say will make you leave. Such a shame…"

Suddenly he pulled out a small blade from his waist and his armed followers drew their weapons while guards burst through the door behind them. Her party responded by arming themselves, while Everil scowled at the old man's insolent decision.

"Look, we have no interest in killing any of you. Stand down and just tell me where Genitivi is."

"Everyone in this village knows you're here and together we are legion. We will drive you out of here in pieces and no one in the lowlands will know," Eirik replied with a dark gaze. "Kill them!"

Everil clicked her tongue and drew her blades. "You fool…"

Some of his followers went after her directly, letting out a battle cry while raising their weapons. Everil dodged the first, a woman, and slashed her throat, then dodged the next and stabbed the man's stomach. She then docked to avoid a horizontal strike with a club, then as she came back up, ran the man through. Eirik took a step back as he watched her approach calmly, while her friends behind her did short work of the guards.

He glared at her. "You won't leave here alive! Andraste will not be disturbed!"

He tried to stab her, only to miss and find himself impaled by one of her blades. He coughed up blood and dropped to the ground, life slowly leaving him.

Having defeated the rest of the enemies, her party gathered around her.

"I think that was half the village," Zevran said with a snide smile.

"I'm sure the rest of it will join in soon enough," Alistair told him with a sigh.

Everil knelt before the Father's body and turned him over, inspecting his pockets for anything of value. She produced a piece of paper from his robe, then as she opened it, something else caught her eye. She frowned and reached out to the piece of jewelry around the man's neck, snapping it off to inspect it. There was a slot at the back of it, as if something could fit in it. She went over the note, which mentioned an old temple, and stashed both items in her bag for safe keeping.

"Evy... I believe I found something," Leliana said as she gazed at a nearby wall, her hands touching the bricks.

Everil stood and walked towards her. She eyed the wall, noticing some of the bricks didn't line up. A puzzled look dawned upon her and she began to push against the wall, which shifted under her hands. "Help me push on this side." She told the former nun.

Both women pressed their hands against the wall and it began to turn inwards, the other side rotating outwards. The others approached them with curious glances, with Oghren muttering something about sly cultists.

Everil stepped into the room first, only to duck as a book was thrown her way.

"Coming for more!"

Her eyes widened as she turned to a man currently lying on the floor, his ankle badly swollen. He seemed well dressed and old in age, his graying hair tussled while bruises covered his wrinkled face.

"Who are you?" She asked with a frown.

"I have already told your people many times! I'm only a scholar from Denerim! What more do you want from me!"

"A scholar…" She echoed. "Are you Genitivi?"

The man calmed down at the mention of his name, but still gave her a suspicious look.

"I am, yes." His eyes then landed upon the symbol on her chest plate, surprise dawning upon him. "You're a Grey Warden?"

She nodded and stepped towards him. "We came looking for you at Lady Isolde's request."

"The Arlessa of Red Cliffe?"

She nodded. "Arl Eamon has fallen ill. We think the only way to save him is to use Andraste's Ashes. She thinks you know where they are."

"I see…" He made to stand, only to fall back down with a hiss. "Damn them!"

She dropped to a knee. "Are you all right? Is it your foot?"

"Y-yes. I think I broke it trying to escape these people."

Everil looked over her shoulder. "Wynne, can you take a look?"

The old woman approached them, kneeling beside her and pulling up the man's pant leg to inspect the joint. She pressed her lips together and shook her head. "I can help ease the pain, but it has become infected. That means it will take time for it to heal." She frowned at the man. "How long have you been here like this?"

"I lost count of the days," He replied with a hopeless look.

"Was it worth it? Did you find the Urn of Sacred Ashes?" Everil inquired, bringing his attention back to her.

He smiled. "I did… in a way."

He pulled out a journal from his coat, handing it over to her. "The temple at the top of the mountain is where Andraste's Ashes were taken after she was burned at the stake by her enemies. I theorized the Urn still lies there. However, I could not get close to the ruins because of these… cultists."

Everil shook her head with a sigh. "Who are these people?"

"Unfortunately, I didn't hear much about them despite having been here for so long. They are careful to keep their secrets to themselves. All I know is that… they are quite violent."

"Yes. We found that out a moment ago," Alistair muttered from beside the secret door, having been listening to their conversation.

"I wondered what those screams meant," Genitivi uttered uncomfortably.

Everil gave him back the journal, and then stood. "Well we know where to go now. You stay here and wait for us to come back."

"I can't." He forced himself to his feet as he winced. "I spent most of my life looking for this place. I refuse to sit here when I am so close to seeing the Urn with my own eyes."

"No," Everil replied curtly, turning to the door.

Genitivy gave her a bewildered look, one that turned into a glare. "Why not?"

She paused to cast cold eyes upon him. "That ankle can barely hold your weight. You will only drag us down."

He swallowed, briefly glancing at his foot. "I can hold my own, Warden."

"Obviously." She gave him an annoyed look and then turned to her mage. "Wynne. Stay here with him until we return. Don't let him follow. We will take care of any enemies outside."

She nodded. "Understood."

Despite the scholar's protests, Everil walked out of the room.

"He seemed pretty upset." Alistair commented as they made their way towards the front doors.

She sighed. "I cannot say I blame him. But we won't be able to protect him on our way to the ruins. It will be safer for him here."

The group left the Chantry and made their way down the hill as a group of villagers ran up, swords and axes in their hands.

"The other half!" Zevran called as he drew his daggers.

"Stop!" Everil shouted down at the incoming enemies. "We don't want to fight you!"

But they kept coming, a dark look in their eyes. One of them got too close, swinging at her as she stepped back to avoid it. She slashed at his throat, cutting it open as he fell to his side. There were many and she wasn't willing to risk losing one of their own.

She clicked her tongue. "Kill them!"

And within minutes what remained of the villagers were slaughtered, their blood soaking the dirt and snow.

xxxxxxx

The Warden had decided to leave part of their party behind to protect both Wynne and the scholar. She had the feeling that even after having killed so many, more of them still lied in wait. It puzzled her how easily they had thrown their lives away, fighting on despite her attempts at avoiding confrontation. Yet still, killing an entire village wasn't something she was proud of.

"Ancestor's balls… this sodded place is so damn cold not even my ale is helping," Oghren muttered moodily as they walked through the cave, the rock walls glimmering as the thin coat of ice reflected the light of her torch.

Everil glanced his way. "By what Genitivi's journal said, there is an exit at the other end of this cave. We just have to find it."

"I hope we find it quickly." Zevran folded his arms, shivering involuntarily. "I don't believe sunshine ever reaches these walls."

"I thought you would be glad you got to come along this time." Alistair told the elf with a smirk. "You can go back to village, if you want."

He snickered. "And miss the opportunity to admire my lady's beautiful backside? I think not."

Everil shot him an annoyed look, having been walking ahead of the group along with her hound.

"Hey…" Alistair warned him.

"Oh please... You are both sickening to watch. Drooling over one woman like a pair of wild dogs. Pathetic." Morrigan glared at the two men, walking past them.

Zevran sent her a flirtatious smile. "Oh. Not just one woman, my dear. Not for me."

Morrigan sent him a disgusted glance.

After hours of walking, the group finally reached a wide chamber with an elaborate arched gateway through which sunlight filtered, illuminating the cave. Everil used her canteen to put out the torch, then strapped it to her waist as they approached the gateway. But they stopped halfway when three men appeared through the blinding light.

"So you are the ones who attacked our sacred village." A booming voice echoed through the chamber. A muscular man holding a massive spear walked down the steps, his sleeveless coat showing off his rock hard arms. His sharp eyes focused upon the female Warden as he stopped steps from her, the two men behind him holding similar weapons. "Woman. You lead this group?

"I do." She replied, lifting her chin up. "We came to visit Andraste's final resting place. We need her ashes to help an ailing man. Now step aside and we won't have any trouble."

His eyes widened a fraction. "I admire a woman's strength. It reminds me of the power our beloved Andraste held in her human form."

She frowned. "Human form?"

"You seek the Urn of Sacred Ashes, do you not? That wretched object is an insult to our mistress. Many have sought after it. And many we have killed for their blasphemy. But perhaps you and I can reach an agreement."

Everil raised a brow. "I don't understand. How would the Urn be an insult to Andraste?"

He scowled. "Andraste has been reborn. Yet the existence of the Urn is a symbol of her demise and keeps her tied to the earthly realm. It must be destroyed!"

Alistair etched closer to her, leaning onto her ear. "Someone has been up here too long."

"Agreed," She uttered back and then returned her attention to the man before her. "All right… what is this agreement you speak of?"

He reached into his bag, producing a small bag. "We will let you pass and visit the temple if you agree to poison the urn. You can take a pinch of the ashes before you go, just get rid of the rest."

Everil's eyes grew wide. "What?"

"Absolutely not." Alistair took a step, his eyes meeting the man's gaze. "We won't defile Andraste's ashes just because of the ravings of some lunatics. Now step aside and let us through."

A murderous look fell upon his eyes. "Then you leave us no choice but to kill you."

Alistair blocked the spear with his sword as it came down, while Everil and the others spread out, taking on the other two men.

Alistair shoved the spear aside and swung around, aiming for his head. The man used his gauntlet to block, then tried to stab the Warden with his spear. Not having drawn his shield, Alistair sidestepped and grabbed the handle with his hand before impaling the man's stomach with his sword.

Everil spun around to dodge a hit from one of the enemies, and as she did she brought her blade around, slicing his throat.

Zevran ducked and avoided a stab, slashing at the spear as Oghren charged from behind, slashing across the man's back with his axe.

After dispatching them, Everil sheathed her blades. "So that is what they believe. That explains why they wish to keep 'lowlanders' away from their lands."

"I wonder what they meant by Andraste having been reborn..." Alistair glared down at the cultist's corpse.

"We shall find out soon enough. Let's go." Everil walked towards the steps while the others followed.

When they emerged from the cave they were greeted by old ruins, marble pillars standing tall and lining a path that stretched forward. The path led towards an open valley atop the mountain, snow covering every corner as the rocky walls framed the area. The cold breeze swept up her coat as she walked, forcing her to adjust the hood to keep the cold air from touching her skin. She felt her lungs burn with each breath as they carefully walked to the end of the passage, when a dark shadow suddenly blocked the light, making them look up.

Upon seeing what it was they rushed to the nearest hiding spot. Alistair, Everil and Magnus ducked behind a pile of stone ruble, while the others took cover behind the pillars.

It was a blue high dragon, soaring through the clouds while circling the valley from above. It landed heavily upon the temple ahead, letting out a roar as it laid down and curled into a ball.

"The surprises never end, do they?" Everil uttered, looking over the ruble at the majestic beast.

Alistair had a troubled look upon his brow. "Could that be what they meant by Andraste having been reborn?"

"The fools probably think the dragon is the incarnation of their prophetess Andraste," Morrigan said and rolled her eyes. "My, but religion is such a curious thing."

"I say let's run for it before that thing decides to sniff us out," Oghren grumbled, gripping his axe.

"The dwarf has my vote." Zevran added.

Everil nodded. "All right. We will make a mad dash for the entrance."

"And what do we do on our way back?" Alistair asked.

She gave him a sweet smile. "Another mad dash, darling."

"Oh... Fair enough." He smiled back.

Everil looked over the ruble. It was technically a straight shot to the temple entrance. She pursed her lips and prepared herself, her hands firmly on the pile of rock.

"Let's go!"

She jumped over and ran, rushing towards the door while the others followed after her, running through the snow.

Hearing their footsteps, the dragon lifted its head and gazed down upon them. It snarled and growled, rising up as its claws dug into the rock, preparing to pounce.

Just as the dragon swept down they made it to the temple doors, bursting through and closing them behind them. While panting for breath, Everil turned around, surveying the room. It was a large main hall, every inch covered in ice while ancient female statues stared down at them.

The sight was breathtaking. Like something out of a painting.

Everil took a few steps, taking in the beauty and detail in the walls. This had obviously been built for someone important.

"Maker look at it all…" Alistair whispered in wonder, walking beside her.

"Let's keep our eyes open. I do not think we have seen the last of our little cultist friends," Everil muttered, her eyes shifting about the place as they walked through the hall and towards the set of stairs ahead.

They made it to the door at the second level, which they found was locked. Everil inspected the door, spotting the elaborate lock at its center. She recognized the symbol upon it and reached into her bag, producing the pendant she had retrieved from Eirik's body. She pressed the pendant into the lock, which allowed her to turn it as a click was heard. She opened the door, stepping into a room that was well lit with torches. "It looks like they had access to the temple the entire time. Who are these people?"

They walked through the room, finding another door that led into an adjacent room. They continued on, exploring the temple while admiring the old artifacts within. Paintings depicting old battles and figures she had seen in history books decorated the walls, while ancient books and scrolls filled the shelves. The scrolls had been so old, and the language so archaic, they were difficult to read.

And as they walked through the white marble halls, she was beginning to understand the significance of Genitivi's discovery. This was the resting place of the figure whose life her faith had been founded upon. Knowing the mortal wife of the Maker had been put to rest in that very building was humbling. _If the Chantry found out about the place…_

Opening another door, they emerged to a large room with towering pillars and a hole on one of the walls, which had allowed snow to crawl in. Everil walked a few steps when a glint by the floor had her look down. It was a string attached to something hidden under the snow.

"Wait," She told the others before kneeling by it, drawing one of her small knifes from her belt. She cut the string and stood, putting away her knife as she scowled. "They are in here."

Suddenly a group of cultists burst out of the snow, knives and swords in their hands.

"Kill the intruders!" One of them cried out as he swung at her, she dodged and drew her blade, stabbing his back.

Alistair used his shield to block a sword and then let it slide along the surface, making the enemy stumble as he lost his footing. He then slashed through his middle, spraying blood over the white, icy floors.

Zevran took down several more as the elf ran through the room, dodging attacks with ease and cutting down the enemy as he went. Oghren merely stood his ground, slashing at the incoming enemies, while Morrigan kept her distance, setting aflame those who got too close.

"Bastards…" Alistair muttered with a sigh, sheathing his sword at his hip.

Everil turned her head to look at the doorway ahead. She put away her blades as she walked towards it, frowning at what she saw within. A deep chasm spread before them, and past it lay another door. There was no bridge or path to help reach it, instead several odd platforms lined the area around the precipice.

Alistair walked up to look down into the chasm. "Is there no other way around?"

"I do not think so." She replied, folding her arms. "I don't understand. We have explored the entire place. This is the only door we have not gone through yet."

Morrigan walked up to one of the platforms, looking down at the symbols inscribed upon them. She stepped upon it, startling the group when it caused a large, see through tile to appear over the chasm. When she stepped off it faded away, disappearing from sight.

She turned to the Warden. "'Tis a magical puzzle of sorts."

"Let us all step on a platform," Everil said as she walked towards the one next to Morrigan's, stepping onto it. All did the same, except for Oghren, who didn't have one to step on due to their numbers. Their action caused several tiles to appear, lining up to make a sort of bridge to the door. But as soon as Everil stepped off one of the tiles disappeared.

"It looks like only one of us can make it through," She said as she walked around the chasm.

Oghren crossed his arms. "There could be something important ahead if that's the case."

"I shall go," Everil said without hesitation.

Alistair frowned, walking over to her. "Are you sure? We don't know what could be past that door."

She turned her unwavering gaze to him. "We don't have much of a choice. One of us has to make it to the ashes and I would rather go myself. I'm good at avoiding enemies if needed."

"What about Zevran? He's a skilled rogue too."

"So send in the elf instead of the woman you love. Why is it I suddenly feel as if I were expendable?" Zevran said with a smirk as he crossed his arms. "Though in all honesty, I would give up my life for my mistress. If she chooses to send me in, I will go with a smile on my face."

"Thank you, Zevran, but my decision stands," Everil smiled at him before returning her attention to Alistair. She then leaned up to gently kiss his lips. "Just wait for me. I will be back before you know it."

He sighed. "All right."

With that her party positioned themselves upon the platforms, making the bridge appear once more. Everil approached it carefully, placing the tip of her foot upon it to ensure it was firm. She then took a step, and then another, steadily walking through the magical bridge.

Alistair watched anxiously as she walked, releasing a breath he didn't know he had been holding when she reached the other side.

She turned to them. "Keep your guard up."

And with that she opened the door, leaving them to wait for her.

xxxxxxx

After crossing another hallway, Everil entered a large chamber, this one barely lit by a single torch at the end. A man in glimmering armor stood beside it, watching her as she approached. And although he was armed, she somehow felt he didn't intend to attack her.

His deep voice then reached her ears as he spoke. "Greetings pilgrim. I am the guardian who protects the final resting place of our beloved prophetess Andraste. Have you come to pay your respects to our lady?"

"I have, in part," She replied, meeting the man's gaze. And although he seemed to be one of the living, something told her he was no longer from this world. "Do you know about those people we fought on our way here?"

A sad look crossed his face. "They are the descendants of Andraste's most loyal followers. They were entrusted with protecting the temple when our lady's ashes were brought here, but have unfortunately lost their way over the centuries."

"I see…"

"You said you did not only come to pay your respects, but for something more?"

"Yes. I came seeking the Urn of Sacred Ashes to save a noble man's life."

He nodded slowly. "The ashes of our lady of course have miraculous properties. But before you go near them you must prove your faith and your worth by conquering your trial."

Everil frowned. "My trial?"

"Every pilgrim must face their decisions and pass a test of faith."

"All right then. When do I start?"

"You have but to step through this door." He gestured to the door beside him. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

She walked through the door, and instantly a chill ran up her spine as the temperature appeared to drop further. She puffed out a breath, her eyes adjusting to the change in light. Blue torches lined the walls as the hallway stretched down before her, seemingly splitting into two directions.

She carefully walked through with her guard up, expecting something to jump out of the darkness. It was deafly silent, the only sound that of her echoing footsteps. As she neared the end of the hallway a male shape began to take form. She reached for her blade as she approached, anticipating trouble, but she froze when she saw his face, her heart twisting painfully.

Her grip on her weapon softened and her arm fell to her side. "Father…?"

He looked just the way he did before he died, his loving gaze upon her. "My darling daughter… you are as beautiful as ever."

She swallowed. "But… you're… dead. Are you… my test?"

"I am…" He uttered as he nodded slowly. "You still hurt over our passing and there is much regret in your heart. I can see you have tried to hide it from those around you, but your pain is still as palpable as it was that night. Why is it you feel so guilty, child?"

Everil's eyes widened, recalling that fateful night and how much she regretted leaving them behind. If she only she could have convinced Duncan to take them with them. If only she could have dragged them out.

She closed her hands into fists, her eyes trailing down to the floor. "I should have stayed with you… or done more to save you… instead I left you to die."

He placed his hand on her shoulder, drawing her eyes back to him. "While there were many other possibilities, we do not begrudge you. You did what we pushed you to do."

She shook her head, fighting back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "One of the few times I chose to obey your orders…"

"You survived and now you are close to saving Ferelden from the Blight. That is worthy of our sacrifice." He then reached into his pocket, producing a beautiful pendant. "This belonged to your mother. She wants you to have it," He uttered as he clasped the thin golden chain around her neck, the blue gem glimmering brightly.

She smiled up at him, her heart aching at his words. "Thank you, Father…"

"Live on, my dear girl. You have passed your first test. Know we are proud of who you have become, and do not let your guilt take away your happiness." As the words left his lips he faded away, leaving her with an empty feeling in her chest.

She pushed on and continued through the dark path, encountering a chamber with several platforms lining the floor. More phantoms stood upon each platform, but these were people from Andraste's life.

Each spirit tested her with riddles she deciphered, telling about the life and death of Andraste. Then when passing the second test, Everil came face to face with another, this one requiring her to walk through h a wall of flames. She frowned as she stared at the fire, feeling the heat as she approached it. She could see the Urn ahead, taunting her.

"This is your final test. The test of faith." She hear the spirit talk in her mind. "You must rid yourself of all earthly possessions and walk bare through the flames. Only then will you prove yourself worthy of Andraste's mercy."

She bit her lip. So she had to walk naked through a wall of flames without fear of burning? Easier said than done. But she had to get it right and get to the ashes. Everil stripped, dropping every piece of equipment, her mother's pendant included. With a confident look she began to walk, closing her eyes as she stepped closer to the fire. She drew in a breath and breathed out, knowing that if she failed she would burn alive. But she wouldn't allow it. She believed well enough in Andraste, especially now after having learned so much about her life.

And with one last intake of air she stepped through, feeling the warmth travel through her body and dissipate as soon as it came. She slowly opened her eyes and looked back at the flames, watching them slowly fade.

"You have passed the test of faith."

She turned to see the spirit smiling gently at her.

"You may take a pinch of the ashes. Maker watch over you during your travels… Grey Warden."

He then vanished, while she stared in wonder at the golden urn ahead, an ethereal light shining down upon it.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter XIX

The stars sparkled above as the moon cast its blue light down upon the village. The group had just arrived from the temple when night fell, leaving them with the decision of either spending the night in Haven or risk travel through the mountain in the dark. To her, the obvious choice had been to spend the night and so she put Shale and Sten on cleanup duty, instructing them to pick up the dead bodies of their unfortunate enemies. Everil didn't know where they went and didn't care, but the smell of sulfur occasionally hitting her nose told her they were burning them somewhere outside of the village.

Everil shook her head as she stared down at the pot of bubbling stew cooking over the campfire, angry at having been forced to kill so many during this particular quest. She only hoped it was worth it and that the ashes now in her possession would work as intended.

She lifted the pendant from her chest, looking down at the shining blue jewel. Her father's appearance then drifted into her mind. The memory brought a familiar weight into her chest, once again bringing forth the pain she felt that fateful night.

She was so lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice Leliana approach with another nug in her hand.

"They are so cute… I wish we didn't have to eat them," Leliana said guiltily, a sad look on her face as she knelt beside the fire. Receiving no response she frowned quizzically at the Warden. "Evy?"

As if snapping back to reality, Everil turned her eyes to her. "Y-yes?"

"Are you feeling well?"

"I… I'm fine. Could you watch Magnus for me? I need some time alone," She uttered and then turned to walk away.

Leliana frowned worriedly. "Sure..."

Magnus whined worriedly, taking a seat by the nun while they both watched her go towards the edge of the woods. Leliana sighed and shook her head, pulling a knife from her belt. She noticed the woman had been distant since they returned from the temple, spacing out constantly, even while giving orders.

"Aww… we're having nug?"

She turned her head towards Alistair, who walked over and dropped a pile of wood by the fire.

He gave the dead animal a sympathetic look. "But they're so adorable!"

She glanced curiously up at him before returning to skinning their meal. "Alistair, I think Evy isn't feeling well..."

"What do you mean?" He frowned worriedly.

"She said she needed some time alone and went towards the river. She seemed... so sad," Leliana quietly told him. "Perhaps you should go talk to her?"

"All right... thanks for telling me Leliana," He said, patting her shoulder.

"Of course."

With that he began to make his way towards the edge of the woods.

xxxxxxx

Everil released a soft breath as she sat over the grass by the river, watching the glittering water flow and roll over the rocks, the sound soothing to her ears. Yet anger and grief wrapped tightly around her heart, squeezing with a bear-like grip. She was trying to heed her father's words, to forgive herself for failing him and the rest of her family. But such mistake was not one that could be forgotten overnight, no matter how hard she tried.

Feeling something wet slide down her face, she reached up to touch her cheek, realizing she had been crying. She furiously rubbed the tears away, chastising herself. "No... It is not yet time to mourn. Not while Howe still draws breath."

"Everil?"

She whipped her head around in surprise, seeing him step out of the woods and into the clearing.

"Hey…" She breathed. "H-how did you find me?"

"Leliana told me which way you went... she was worried about you," He softly replied as he made his way to her. He then took a seat next to her, giving her a concerned look. "And I admit I am too. You've been quiet since we came back from the temple."

"Oh... sorry to have worried you," She muttered, turning away from him to stare at the reflection of the moon on the waters.

"You don't have to apologize..."

She felt him wrap his arm around her shoulders, drawing her to him. The simple action instantly made her feel more comfortable, making it more difficult to hold back her tears. But she had to keep her emotions in check, no matter how much it hurt.

"Did something happen I should know about?" He asked as he gently stroked her hair, attempting to sooth whatever ailed her.

She swallowed and shook her head. "I just... felt a little overwhelmed, that's all. We had to kill so many today..."

"They didn't stop coming no matter what we said... we were only defending ourselves."

"But an entire village is now gone because of us..."

"We needed the Urn to get help against the Blight and they got in our way. We did what we had to."

"I suppose that's what Grey Wardens do..."

"Yes..."

She sighed, resting her hand upon his arm. "There was... something more."

"What is it?" He asked with a subtle frown.

"I saw... my father… in the temple."

She felt his hold on her tighten then as he spoke. "I see... how?"

"It was part of a trial to obtain access to the Urn…" She said weakly, her eyes cast upon the ground. "Seeing him again was… painful."

"We'll make sure Howe pays for what he did. I promise," He uttered, then gently kissed the top of her head.

"Thank you..." She whispered as she leaned against him. His words and his touch seemed to have the ability to heal her when she needed it most. And she found it difficult to imagine what she would have done or how she would have felt if he hadn't been there with her.

"Feeling better?" He murmured into her hair.

She pulled back to gaze up at him with a small smile. "Yes... I do."

"Good," He uttered with a smile of his own. Seeing that side of her was rare. She was usually the strong one. But he knew the burdens of duty could wear down even the strongest, and he was glad he was at least capable of helping, even if just a little.

She leaned her head on his shoulder once more, releasing a soft breath as she allowed herself to relax.

The two sat in comfortable silence for a moment, listening to the flow of the water as they watched the light play over the surface. It wasn't often it was just the two of them, enjoying each other's company without the background talk of their traveling companions. She almost didn't want it to end.

"Should we go back to camp?" He finally asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"I don't know..." She replied, pulling back to smile lovingly up at him. "I like being with you like this..."

"I do too..." He reached up to gently stroke her cheek, her arm coming up to wrap around his neck as he leaned closer.

Her heart fluttered as his lips pressed against hers in a gentle kiss, her cheeks growing warm despite the cool breeze touching her skin.

Alistair pulled back a little, looking down into her eyes as she gazed into his honey colored pools.

"One more kiss...?" She requested softly.

And he complied, kissing her once more, his lips lingering a little longer before he pulled back once more.

"Another..." She said again, her voice barely audible.

He smiled and kissed her again, and this time she parted his lips with her tongue, deepening the kiss as he released a soft sigh.

And just like that she was able to overcome her sadness, focusing on how happy he made her feel, while remembering she was not alone. And although the pain would still be there, she could still smile so long as she was with him

Their tongues slowly twirled around each other and her heart raced against her chest as she lost herself in his lips. She vaguely noticed his arm wrap around her waist, holding her against him as he slowly lowered them to the grass, laying her on her back.

Alistair breathlessly pulled back from her lips. He brought his hand up to her hair, his thumb tenderly stroking her temple, their noses almost touching as his eyes traced her beautiful features.

"I love you..." He whispered, so softly she barely heard him. But it was loud enough for her heart to skip happily at the three words she so liked to hear.

Yes. This man was all she had now.

But he was all she needed.

She lightly cupped his cheek. "I love you too..."

He brushed his lips against hers and then claimed them for a passionate kiss, drawing a soft moan out of her as his tongue explored her mouth.

Everil's hand slid to the back of his head, her fingers lacing through his hair before he strayed from her lips, sprinkling hot kisses down to the soft skin of her neck. With a quiet moan she rolled her head to the side, allowing him more access as his warm breath sent shivers down her spine. She then heard one of her chest plate buckles come loose, and then another, his desire for her making her bite her lip with a smile.

He lifted himself off her and took her hand, silently directing her to sit up to help take off her weapons, tossing them aside to then slide her chest plate off to work on her vest. Meanwhile, she undid his armor, her delicate fingers working off the straps with ease as his lips graced her own. Once she was done he took off the heavy plates along with his shoulder pieces, setting them aside before her hands then moved to untie his chain mail his lips sought hers once more.

She moaned as he nibbled on her bottom lip, her body aching for him. And yet there were still layers of clothing separating them and she felt a pang of frustration at this as she worked to remove them.

He seemed to think the same, as he impatiently began to undo the straps at each side of her waist, loosening her coat just enough to begin pulling it over her head. Breathlessly pulling back from the kiss, she lifted her arms to let him take off her chainmail, leaving her with only her winter underclothes. He then helped her undo his more robust chainmail, sliding it over his head and tossing it aside as it landed heavily on the ground.

With a triumphant smile, he gently lowered her to the ground once more, kneeling between her legs. He then promptly opened the front of her tunic and untied the knot holding her bra in place, exposing her creamy white breasts to him as the cold air made her shiver. His lustful eyes trailed over them for a brief moment, taking in her hardened nipples as the moonlight glowed against her skin. He leaned down to brush his lips over her neck, drawing a shuddering breath out of her as he kissed his way down to her chest and between her breasts, his breath warm against her cool skin.

Then his lips found their way to one of her breasts, the hot sensation around her nipple causing her to whimper. He gently suckled on it, his tongue caressing the tender tip while his other hand fondled the other breast, making her moan loudly as she arched her back to him, giving into his touch. Hearing her moan urged him to suckle harder, his teeth grazing her skin as he gazed up at her through half-closed eyes.

Everil bit her lip as she watched him run his tongue around the pink tip of her breast. The tingling on her bosom and the erotic sight of him licking her skin brought upon the familiar longing between her legs, her loins quickly growing moist for him.

As if reading her thoughts he suddenly pulled back, leaning up to pull off her boots and untie her pants. She stared at him expectantly as he carefully slid them off her legs, impatiently taking with them her underwear. The cold air caressed her bare legs then, causing her to shiver despite the heat surging through her body.

"Cold…?" He uttered, a hint of concern in his tone as his fingers began to untie his breeches.

"Yes…" She gazed up at him with a seductive smile, lifting her arms invitingly. "Give me warmth, my love…"

He lay atop her once more as she wrapped her arms around his neck, his body pinning hers against the ground. He let out a breath and softly kissed her lips as his hand worked off the last loop in his pants, allowing him to pull out his hard member as it throbbed excitedly near her warm parts.

Everil let out a soft whine when she felt the tip of his stiff manhood press against her entrance, then penetrate further in, her moist walls wrapping around his length until he reached her top. She felt him shudder in her arms and heard him groan when he began to move his hips slowly, his penis caressing her depths as her tight loins stroked his shaft. The gradual friction sent gentle waves of pleasure up from her center, drawn out moans leaving her lips as he began to sprinkle tender kisses along her cheek, and down to her ear.

"Warm yet…?" He murmured huskily, his lips brushing against her earlobe and making her shudder beneath his strong body.

She swallowed, his tone of voice giving her goose bumps. "Very… Give me more…"

Hearing her plea drove him to quicken his thrusts, making her roll her head back in ecstasy, moaning each time she felt him slide in as her hands grabbed on to his shirt. She bit her lip and whimpered, the possibility of someone walking in on them crossing her mind. Yet instead of fear, she felt her adrenaline kick in, finding the gamble exhilarating.

"Oh Maker…!" She mewled and instinctively lifted her hips to meet his, finding his rhythm as the heat from where they were joined sent tingling pleasure through her body

He groaned as her insides tightened around him, heightening the sensations shooting down his shaft while making him throb within her. Panting for breath, he placed his hands on the cold grass, lifting himself up as he continued to thrust into her, gazing down at her with pleasure etched upon his handsome features.

And as she gazed up at his powerful frame she suddenly felt smaller, the knowledge of his greater strength tugging at something primitive within her, making her want him more.

"Harder…" She moaned weakly as her hands held tightly to the fabric over his broad shoulders, her lustful eyes locked with his.

And he did as she commanded, pulling back only to lunge back in, moaning loudly as his hips clashed against hers.

"Yes!" Everil cried out as she spread her legs wider, surrendering herself to him.

Having more room, his rod hit deeper, the tip pressing against her core each time their bodies met, drawing more sensual cries out her. Her wet folds slid along his length, her approaching orgasm causing her walls to tighten around him as each stroke pushed him closer to release.

"Maker…" He breathed as he closed his eyes tightly, the increased friction heightening the jolts shooting through him from their joined parts.

"Harder!" She moaned loudly as her hips buckled up.

Alistair moved faster then, thrusting against her as her body rocked back and forth each time their hips collided, her screams filling the quiet clearing. He groaned as his hand then came up to fondle her breast, his fingers pinching her hard nipple as his sword continued to impale her, and before long she could no longer bear the pressure.

She whimpered helplessly as he ravaged her, and then the world came crashing around her. She screamed his name as she felt her insides throb around him, her constricting walls promptly forcing his climax. He let out a loud groan as the intense waves of pleasure crashed against him, and he filled her womb with his seed, her womanhood hungrily taking in every drop as she quivered beneath him.

His movements gradually slowed, his still pulsating member sliding in and out of her now soaked insides, dragging on the ripples of their release as he breathlessly leaned down for a soft, loving kiss.

Everil tenderly pressed her lips to his, her chest heaving as she gently stroked his sweat-streaked cheek, inwardly wishing she could remain alone with him just a while longer.

xxxxxxx

"Had yourselves some fun huh?" Oghren teased with a snicker as they watched the two Wardens make their way towards the campfire, receiving an annoyed look from Everil. He let out a gruff chuckle. "You know Warden, any other time I would back up a little under that look of yours, but it's hard to take you seriously when you have stuff stuck to your hair."

"What…?" She reached up to touch her locks, her cheeks flaring as she glared at him.

"Oh leave them alone," Leliana scolded gently as she put her bowl down and smiled up at her. "Here, Evy. Allow me to fix your hair."

Everil awkwardly walked over to the nun, sitting with her back facing her. Leliana then gently began to detangle her hair with her fingers, giggling while plucking a twig from her hair. The Warden glared stubbornly at a far corner of the woods, doing her best to hide her flaring face from the others. If only it hadn't been so dark, Alistair may have been able to warn her.

Said man scratched the back of his head, a little color also on his cheeks as he took a seat by the fire, wondering why they didn't just spend the night in the woods, away from their snide comments and teasing smiles.

"So you and the boss huh…?" Oghren uttered with a perverted grin. "Tell me… how come you don't get tangled up between those long legs? Do you just move them out of the way and go on about your business?"

"Maker's breath…" Alistair sighed, running his hand down his face.

"No need to be shy, son." Oghren laughed again and then took a swig from his canteen before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Just askin' in case I get lucky with one of your human females in the surface. You never know… women always want some of old Oghren."

"Now that would be an interesting sight…" Zevran commented with an amused smile.

The dwarf then burped loudly.

"On second thought… No. I don't think I would want to see that." Zevran uttered in disgust.

"How in the Maker's name are you getting drunk again? Are we even carrying that much alcohol with us?" Alistair asked Oghren, trying to drive the attention away from Everil and himself while also curious about the dwarf's seemly endless supply of ale.

Oghren smirked, wobbling as he spoke. "What? You jealous 'cus you can't be drunk like me?"

"In part… I'm also seriously wondering how you manage to stay drunk all the time."

"Lots of discipline… and marriage." He let out a gruff chuckle.

"Marriage?" Alistair gave him a puzzled look. "Was Branka that bad?"

The dwarf took another drink from his canteen, then gazed at the Warden with irritation. "You ever been married, boy?"

"Uh no… of course not. I was in the Chantry for most of my life."

"Don't ever marry. Marriage is for fools." He took another drink. "That's all I'm gunna say."

"I don't know… I don't think it would so bad. Not if I marry the right person…" Alistair uttered, gazing down at the flickering flames of the fire.

Everil turned her head toward him, her heart involuntarily skipping at his words while Leliana giggled softly behind her.

"Well… don't say I didn't warn you." The dwarf muttered.

She turned her head towards the dwarf then, seeing the sadness that crossed his features at the conversation. She could tell he liked to put up a front, to pretend his former wife's death didn't affect him, but it was sometimes easy to see how much he loved her. It was a shame she couldn't save her from herself.

xxxxxxx

After several days of travel they were nearing Redcliffe, crossing hills and trails between the mountains until Lake Calenhad became visible. Before they reached the castle the arlessa had already sent soldiers to greet them and lead them through the bridge, while Bann Teagan waited by the gates with a couple of servants.

Upon arriving, they dismounted as Teagan approached the Grey Wardens.

"Welcome back everyone," He greeted, reaching out to shake hands with Everil, then Alistair.

She smiled. "Thank you."

Alistair gave him a concerned look. "How's Arl Eamon fairing? Did anything change while we were gone?"

Teagan shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid not… Were you successful in retrieving the ashes?"

"We were," Everil replied with a firm look.

The bann's face lit up. "Thank the Maker! Come. We should test them immediately." He then turned to the servants. "Help the Wardens with their things, please. Take them to their usual rooms."

The servants did as they were told and helped remove their things from the horses while Teagan motioned for the Wardens to follow. After entering the castle, the party was sent to their respective rooms, while Everil and Alistair walked with Teagan to Arl Eamon's room.

Alistair's chest tightened as different scenarios played out in his mind. What if the ashes don't work? What if they do? How will he even begin a conversation with him now after so many years?

Arl Eamon was like a father to him. He had raised another man's bastard son as if he were his own, without complains or ever making him feel unwelcome. Yet he spat it all back in his face that day, disrespecting the one person who gave him everything when he possessed nothing. But after years of guilt he now had the opportunity to set things right. To apologize for his insolence and to thank him for all he did for him.

 _Provided the ashes work…_ He thought with a troubled sigh, frowning worriedly.

A hand on his arm made him turn his head to see her loving smile, the tension in his chest slightly fading at the sight. It was surprising how well they knew each other now. Well enough for her to tell how he felt without having to ask, while her gaze told him he wasn't dealing with the situation alone. It seemed that throughout their journey they became experienced at reassuring one another, at urging one on when the other faltered. He never shared that sort of bond with anyone in his life, which made him glad to have her by his side even more.

When they entered the room, Isolde and the elven healer turned their heads towards them, seemingly having been engaged in conversation prior to their arrival. The arlessa's eyes lit up with hope at the sight of them, walking up to them as she laced her fingers on her skirt, exhaustion evident on her posture.

"Wardens… please tell me you were successful." She nearly pleaded.

Everil's eyes softened. It a long time passed since they left Redcliff to seek out the dwarves and the ashes. This woman was probably worried sick the entire time, worried about whether or not they would find the only thing that could save her husband. And despite having disliked her at first, she could sympathize with one's need to save the one they loved.

Everil reached into her side pouch, producing a small bag containing the pinch of ashes. She stepped closer to Isolde and took her hand, placing the bag on her palm.

"Maker…" Isolde's wide eyes gazed down at the precious item, tears welling up within them.

Alistair smiled lightly. "Perhaps Andraste herself can bring him back."

Isolde turned her eyes to him, smiling back as a tear slid down her cheek. She then turned to Velore, who walked up to them.

"Allow me, my lady." The elven woman took the pouch, nodding towards Alistair with a sideward smile before moving towards the table by the arl's bed.

After mixing them with warm water, the old elf then stepped towards the bed where Eamon lay motionless. Isolde approached her, clasping her hands against her chest as she watched her carefully pour the liquid into his mouth. Meanwhile, Teagan took a tentative step, his hands closing into fists as he impatiently waited for his brother to react.

Several agonizing minutes passed and then a single finger twitched.

Isolde's eyes widened as Velore stepped back, allowing her to step closer to her husband. His blue eyes then slowly opened, and she gasped as more tears streamed down her face.

"Still… as beautiful as I remember..." Eamon uttered hoarsely, a corner of his lip going up.

"Andraste's mercy!" Isolde fell on her knees and took his hand in hers, happily kissing his pale fingers.

His smile faded, a worried frown replacing it. "Where's… Connor?"

"He is… well. He has been waiting eagerly for you to wake up."

He coughed lightly, his throat dry from lack of use.

"Darling!" She called worriedly.

He gently patted her hand as he swallowed. "Don't worry, my love. I am fine now. Though I… thought I would not be for a moment there." He then looked past her to the elven healer. "You have my thanks, Velore."

The elf shook her head with a gentle smile. "No, my lord. It was not I."

He frowned in puzzlement. "Then who…?"

Teagan stepped towards the bed, motioning to the door. "The Grey Wardens did, Brother. And one of them specifically..."

"Teagan." Eamon acknowledged him and slowly sat up, leaning on his side to gaze upon Everil and Alistair.

Alistair hesitated, his nerves keeping him muted under the man's gaze when someone gently pushed him forward. He glanced back to Everil's wide smile as she tilted her head towards the arl, folding her arms over her chest.

He nodded and then turned to Eamon. "It's… been a while… Arl Eamon."

Eamon squinted, taking in his familiar features. Then realization dawned upon him, his brows lifting as his aging features turned to shock. "Alistair? Is that… you?"

Alistair nodded and anxiously scratched the back of his neck.

"Maker's breath… look at you…" He said in wonder, a smile spreading through his lips. "You have grown into a man."

Alistair gave him a sheepish grin. "Yes… you could say that."

A confused look then dawned upon the arl. "But… I thought you were still in the monastery… you're a Grey Warden now?"

"I was in the monastery, yes. I was recruited into the Grey Wardens a year and several months ago." He let out a breath. "It's a… long story."

"Much has happened during the time you were asleep, husband," Isolde uttered quietly, her eyes downcast.

"Perhaps we should leave you to talk…" Everil suggested, placing a hand on Alistair's arm.

Teagan smiled towards her. "Thank you both…. please make yourselves comfortable, as before. We will explain everything to Eamon and meet with you once he's ready."

She nodded and the two turned to leave, but as Alistair neared the door, a voice halted him.

"Alistair..."

He gazed towards the arl. "Yes, my lord."

Eamon gave him a tired smile, his eyes regarding him the same way they had so many years ago. "Welcome home, boy."

The words made him smile, an odd feeling of nostalgia crowding his chest.

"Thank you, Arl Eamon," He uttered, bowing his head respectfully before leaving the room, allowing them to discuss everything that had happened. It was likely going to be a long conversation, one he knew would weigh heavily upon the arl's heart.

xxxxxxx

After returning to their rooms, they decided to go out to the village and stock up on supplies while also taking a breather. It had been several days of travel and they just managed to save someone who could get them the human forces they needed. The last piece of the puzzle before taking on the archdemon and the darkspawn horde.

"This ale tastes like piss," Oghren mumbled, looking down at the now empty pint in his hand.

"Does that mean it's bad? Because you drank the whole thing," Alistair said with a confused look.

"I might just need another taste…" The dwarf gruffly replied, then lifted a hand to order another round. "Where's your woman anyway?" Oghren asked as the wench placed the ale on their table. "She's taking a while."

Alistair inwardly smiled at how strange, yet how right his word for her sounded, taking a drink from his ale before gazing down at him. "She probably got held up negotiating the price for our supplies… she's pretty good at that."

Zevran took a seat across from the two men after having been talking to a woman at the other side of the tavern. He grinned at them, adjusting his leather collar. "Fereldan women are so feisty… it's quite the turn on."

"You've obviously never been with a dwarf," Oghren muttered with a snicker. "They've a way of driving you crazy. In more ways than one."

"So I heard," The elf said, then turned to the qunari sitting stone silent beside him. "What about you, Sten? Are your women as tough as you?"

Sten glanced down at the men, his still full pint of ale sitting before him. "Tough is not something we define by physical prowess… we define it by our commitment to our people."

"Ah… well, if your women are as huge as you, then I would love to see one. And maybe touch one," Zevran said with a grin.

Alistair simply rested his chin on his hand, looking down at his ale while vaguely listening to their idle banter. The women had gone to walk the market at Leliana's request, while he and the others sitting with him were forced to also do something entertaining while they waited for them to run the errands.

"Pretty quiet there, Warden. Didn't we just save some guy you care about?" Oghren asked before taking a drink.

"You mean the arl of this village? Yes," He responded. "Of course I'm glad we saved his life. Not only because I respect him, but because we worked pretty hard to get those ashes."

"You can say that again," Oghren said as he lifted his pint as if in gesture of cheers, taking another drink to then speak again. "Then why are you all quiet?"

"I was just thinking of what's to come next after this. We'll most likely be going to Denerim to face Loghain..." He said and took a drink or his ale.

"Well… that's going to be interesting…" Zevran quietly said.

"Yes… yes, it will be," Alistair muttered, his gaze darkening.

The sudden bang of the tavern door flying open had everyone look towards it with surprised stares, as a man wobbled his way in. Alistair gave him a scrutinizing look, then stood when noticing he was covered in blood. The man's gaze then focused on him, and he continued walking towards their table, a cloak covering his head.

His companions reached for their weapons, but Alistair raised a hand, telling them not to draw. The stranger stopped steps from him, then his eyes went up to his, great relief etched upon them.

"It's… you…"

"Hey!" Alistair exclaimed as the man's knees gave out under him. He stumbled forth and the Warden helped ease the fall, lowering him to the floor while taking a knee beside him.

"Are you all right?" Alistair asked with a concerned look.

"I found you…" The man said weakly.

Alistair's brow furrowed. "Do I know you?"

"I was King Cailan's confidant… I… was in Ostagar before he died." He winced, his hand on his wound as he bled to the floor.. "He seemed to know… that their plan in Ostagar was doomed to fail. From the beginning."

"What?" Alistair's eyes widened.

"He… he told me that should he die in battle… I was to search for you… and give you this." He pulled a key from around his neck, breaking the thin chain to then place it upon Alistair's hand.

Alistair frowned as he gazed down at it, unsure of what was happening and confused by his words. "Why did he continue on despite knowing the plan would fail? Why didn't he wait for reinforcements?"

"He had… no choice... But he had a plan… you will know once you open the chest," The man continued, his breathing becoming erratic as blood loss weakened his body. "Find… the chest in Ostagar… in the king's… tent. You must have its contents… darkspawn should not soil the king's belongings with their dirty claws!"

Alistair looked down at him with a sympathetic look, recalling who he was. This man had been with Cailan in nearly every meeting both he and Duncan attended, which meant the king obviously trusted him. He couldn't understand what it was Cailan wanted him to have in that chest, but he had a feeling it was something important.

Important enough to send this man searching for him, his torn clothes and worn shoes telling him he was wandering throughout Ferelden for a long time.

"All right… I'll go look for the chest. I give you my word," Alistair responded quietly, his hand closing around the key.

As if a heavy burden had been lifted, the man let out a sigh. "Thank you…" Then his eyes went dark and lifeless, leaving Alistair with many other unanswered questions.

Then the doors to the tavern burst open once more as a group of soldiers stalked in, wearing the emblem of another lord from outside Redcliffe. They looked around, searching for something when their eyes found them. The commanding officer walked towards them, a hard look in his eyes. "That man is our prisoner."

"Well you're a little late. He's dead," Alistair replied as he stood, putting away the key in his bag.

The soldier scowled. "He gave you something, didn't he? We've been trying to get the bastard to talk for a long time. He stole that key from my lord, Bann Loren. Hand it over."

Alistair folded his arms with a sarcastic smile. "First: You're a terrible liar. And second: No. I'm not giving you the key."

"You don't have a choice, Grey Warden." He drew his sword and his soldiers followed suit, but in seconds, Sten, Zevran and Oghren had their weapons pointed at him.

"Oh I think I do," Alistair uttered with a threat in his tone. "Now put away your weapons before you get hurt."

A scream from the back had them pause, as one of the soldiers got ahold of one of the wenches. He pointed his blade at her and twisted her arm behind her back while she quivered under his hold, blood sliding down her throat from where the edge touched her skin.

The soldier before him smirked. "You wouldn't let the poor girl die, now would you? Give us the key or her blood will spray the floor."

"That wouldn't be very smart, you know. If you kill the girl you'll have to respond to Arl Eamon and his knights," Alistair countered.

"Worth the risk," He spat.

The man holding the hostage then let out a gurgling sound as he was stabbed from behind. He released the girl as he coughed blood, and then fell to the ground, revealing Everil as she stood with one of her blades dripping blood.

"Are you sure about that?" She said menacingly to the soldiers, her eyes narrowing at them.

The soldier cursed under his breath, then put away his weapon with a scoff. "That key isn't worth this much trouble. Come men. At least we killed that troublesome old man."

They watched the soldiers leave, those in the tavern glancing cautiously towards them. After they left Zevran and the others put away their weapons, then Alistair walked towards her.

"What was that all about?" She asked him, and he noticed their female companions outside the door.

"I'll tell you on our way back to the castle… we may have to make a short trip south sometime," He responded as they made their way towards the door.

xxxxxxx

Night fell by the time they were called to the main hall by Arl Eamon, who was informed of everything that occurred during his slumber. He stood before the large fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back as his wife and brother stood beside him. Despite having been in bed for weeks, the arl stood regally before them, his white beard neatly combed and his long white hair well groomed.

He was the Arl Eamon Alistair remembered.

"I have called upon you for various reasons," He began, his gaze shifting between the two Grey Wardens while their party stood casually in the back of the room.

"But before all else... I wanted to thank you. I heard you saved both my village and my family from the demon that held us captive," He said as he regarded Everil with a small smile. "Thank you for saving that which is precious to me, Lady Everil."

She politely tipped her head. "Of course, my lord."

"I now know of Bryce's death… it is unfortunate. Your father fought bravely alongside King Maric and my father in the war for the throne during the Orlesian occupation. He was a hero," He said with a sullen tone and his gaze softened. "And as a gesture of my gratitude, know that when the time comes for you to reclaim your title and your lands from Howe, I will make my soldiers available to you. You have but to ask."

She kept her chin up proudly despite the weight settling upon her chest. "Thank you, my lord."

The arl then continued, his voice filling the room. "The Blight has extended past the farmlands and many villages have fallen… we are running short on time. We must act quickly to defeat it. But with my nephew dead and Loghain causing a civil war, the nobles are scattered along with their resources."

"We were hoping you would lend us your help with that," Alistair said with hardened eyes. "Loghain should pay for what he did."

"By Teagan's account the man has unfortunately lost his way… but he is respected and held in high regard by the people of Ferelden, as a hero and as a patriot. It will be difficult to unify the country and obtain the armies we need with him at the helm." He sighed and shook his head, before his eyes focused on Alistair. "Which is why I have made a decision in regards to the throne. The only way to bring peace back to Ferelden is for it to have a king. But we need someone with a stronger claim to the throne than the queen. As Maric's son, you are that someone, Alistair."

Everil's eyes widened and she turned her head to Alistair, who had a similar look of shock on his face.

"Woah… the Warden's a Prince?" Oghren asked in a quiet grumble towards Zevran.

"Yep. More like a bastard Prince though," The elf muttered with a snicker.

After the initial shock wore out, Alistair reached up to rub the back of his neck, avoiding the arl's stern gaze. "I… I don't think that's a good idea. Why don't you take the throne instead? You're more than qualified to be Ferelden's king."

Eamon shook his head. "Despite my sister Rowan having been Cailan's mother and queen, it would seem opportunist for us to stake a claim. The throne belongs in the Theirin bloodline. Cailan had no successor. Therefore you are the only one who can take the reins now."

"No. I can't," He curtly replied, his sharp eyes meeting the arl's. "You know better than anyone I wasn't prepared to be king. I don't know the first thing about ruling a country."

"I may not have raised you in the way Cailan was, but you have knowledge he did not have. You know the hardships the people face first hand. You can relate to them. That alone will make you a good ruler."

"But-"

"You will be the one to take the throne, Alistair. I expect nothing less of you." Eamon's gaze hardened, his tone firm as if he were speaking to a child.

Alistair's hands closed into fists, suddenly feeling as he did when he was sent to the monastery all those years ago. "Do I have no say in this!"

"I'm afraid sometimes life does not give one the luxury of choices, son." Eamon's gaze never wavered.

Without another word, Alistair whirled around and stalked away, walking angrily towards the door.

"Alistair!" Everil took a step to follow him.

"Lady Everil."

She paused mid step, turning to look up at the arl.

"He will need some time to think. Give him a moment," He uttered quietly, his hard eyes melting into a guilt-ridden expression.

"You knew he didn't want the throne… Why are you forcing it upon him?" She asked quietly, a hint of anger and confusion in her soft voice.

"You were raised in our circle… you know we must sometimes make difficult decisions." Eamon drew in a sigh, his fatherly eyes gazing down at her. "Alistair's life may have been difficult, but it was a sheltered life. Maric was also coddled by his mother in his youth. And he once told me I'm confidence that when he found himself King, he felt lost and unworthy of such a responsibility. The same way Alistair feels now. And yet despite his own fears, Maric became the ruler Ferelden needed after years of slavery."

Everil's brow furrowed. "That's not the same entirely. Alistair resents his bloodline… he suffered much because of it."

"I am aware of that... I was partly to blame for it all," He uttered sadly, his hands closing into fists. "And yes… He may hate the very prospect of taking over his father's throne, but the royal lineage of Ferelden are natural leaders. They will carry on the burden of their blood regardless of doubt and fear. He may not see it now, but he will in time."

He then walked down the steps to her, placing a gentle hand upon her shoulder. "He seems to trust you. You're his comrade. Help him through this."

"But I…" She frowned, noticing he obviously didn't know they were also lovers.

"As a Cousland you should know this is what is right for Ferelden. Please."

"I know…" She replied in barely a whisper, her eyes downcast as the burden of duty weighed heavily on her shoulders. "Very well… I suppose I can at least help him feel better about this."

"Good." He patted her shoulder. "We will be departing to Denerim when you're ready. In the meantime I will arrange a Landsmeet with the nobility. We will need their approval if Alistair is to become king. Now go talk to him… you will find him in the castle's backyard."

"Understood." Everil nodded, then turned around, pausing by the others on her way to the door.

"Go do what you will. We will call for you when we're ready to leave," She told them.

"Is Alistair going to be all right?" Leliana said worriedly.

Everil nodded. "He'll be fine. Now you should all rest. I will see you soon."

With that she exited the hall, heading for door as her hound followed after her.

xxxxxxx

King of Ferelden.

Not a title that ever crossed his mind to claim, nor one he ever wanted. He was a nobody fortunate or unfortunate enough to have survived this long, struggling through life as the mistake of his parents haunted him, shaping his very existence. If only none of this would have happened, he would probably be traveling with Duncan and the other Wardens without a care in the world, just killing darkspawn. If the Blight hadn't taken place now, he may have even become a templar, something he didn't mind as much now.

The very idea of ruling a country terrified him. He knew he matured much since it all began, but he was sure he wasn't leading material. Even when he had to take temporary responsibility for their party, he still found himself wondering what Everil would do in their situation. It was never his choice. Even if he fooled himself into believing he had any say, Everil was always the one with the last word.

So how could he rule a country when he never made a choice himself? When he was better at following rather than dictating their path?

He threw a pebble at the grass ahead as he sat under the leafless tree in the garden, letting out a frustrated grunt.

"What are you doing, Ser?"

Alistair turned his head to the small voice, his features softening upon realizing who it was.

Connor was smiling curiously at him, holding a wooden sword in his hand. It was a complete contrast to the distorted boy they fought before, his innocence restored to that of a normal child.

"I uh nothing… just thinking," Alistair replied awkwardly, a little unsettled by the boy's curious gaze.

"About what?" He tilted his head, the action reminding him vaguely of Everil's hound.

Alistair scratched the back of his head. "Someone is forcing me to do something I don't want to do. I'm wondering why."

"Oh… I know how that feels…" He smiled sadly, looking down at his wooden sword. "I was just told by Father I have to go live in the Circle of Magi. I don't want to go… and I don't understand it. So I guess I'm also wondering why."

Alistair turned a sympathetic look to the child. "He didn't tell you?"

He smiled. "He did. I have magic and magic is dangerous. But I don't understand why it is. I don't want to hurt anyone…"

"I'm sorry…" He uttered.

"But although I don't like it, I know it's what I have to do. So I will do it… because it's my duty," He said, his grip on his sword tightening as he cast his eyes to the ground.

Alistair's eyes widened a fraction at his words, finding that in a way their problems were similar.

Connor was born a mage, a choice he didn't make and one that would mark him as an outcast for the rest of his life. While he was born the illegitimate son of a king, something he considered a curse throughout his life as others also shun him away.

Yet this boy was somehow braver than he was, willing to do what was right regardless of his personal desire to remain free of the Circle's shackles.

"There you are," Everil called as she headed towards them, her hound running ahead.

Connor's face lit up. "A mabari!"

Magnus barked, stopping in front of the boy before licking his face, causing him to erupt in a fit of laughter. He petted the dog excitedly while the hound happily wagged his short tail.

"Can I play with him?" Connor asked as he looked up at her, his eyes hopeful.

Everil smiled lightly at the boy. This child nearly killed everyone in Redcliffe, but now he seemed like a completely normal boy. She was glad he didn't remember anything about it.

"Sure. Just be careful. Lady Isolde would be upset if you got hurt."

"Yes, my lady!" He replied and then ran towards the open area of the garden, the hound chasing after him.

Now alone, Everil took a seat next to him, wrapping her arms around one of his.

He let out a breath. "I'm sorry I walked out like that."

"It's all right… I don't blame you for being upset."

"I just… I can't believe he would do this to me."

Everil leaned her head against his shoulder, trying to find the right words. "I… I think he's right."

"What?" He asked in nearly a whisper, craning his head to look at her.

"Ferelden is in chaos… and someone has to overthrow Loghain before we can unify the nobility and gather our forces against the Blight." She lifted her head to look up at him, gazing into his eyes as she reached up to cup his cheek. "After traveling with you… and after all we've been through together... I am confident you have what it takes to be King."

His hand came up to rest upon hers, his eyes filled with doubt. "But Everil… I can't…"

"Perhaps you should think about it on our way to Ostagar," She uttered with a small smile, lowering her hand to let it rest upon his chest. "We should go before sunrise tomorrow, while the others remain here and wait for us. Arl Eamon said we would be traveling to Denerim once we are ready, so we should return as soon as possible."

A corner of his lip went up. "All right…"

Magnus barked as he ran back to them, Connor running after him. Everil petted the hound's neck, chuckling as he gently licked her cheek.

"I did that, didn't I?"

She and Alistair turned to the boy, her brow furrowing. "Did what?"

Connor stepped closer, reaching out to trace his finger along the scar across her cheek. "This… I dreamed it."

A surprised look dawned upon her features. _So he remembers this…?_

"No. It wasn't you." She uttered as she pushed herself to her feet. She then placed a hand on his shoulder with a gentle smile. "Something evil did it."

Alistair then stood, gazing worriedly at the two.

"Something evil?" He tilted his head.

She nodded. "That's right… and you're not evil."

"Even though I have magic?"

"Of course…" Her smile broadened as her hand then went for his hair, ruffling his brown locks the same way she did her late nephew when he still lived. "You seem like a perfectly normal kid to me."

He chuckled, trying to swat her hand away.

Alistair didn't miss the sad look that crossed her face at his reaction, and he stepped closer, placing his hand on the small of her back. "We should go to sleep. We have an early morning tomorrow." He uttered next to her.

"Ah right…" She smiled and then returned her attention to the boy. "Lady Isolde is probably looking for you by now, Connor."

He nodded. "Father too."

"Come on." She motioned with her head. "We should go inside before they get worried."

The two Grey Wardens then led him to the castle, where his mother waited.

And Everil found herself missing her old life. She hadn't had time to think about it before, but she missed her home, the soldiers saying their greetings and her nephew running through the halls. Her old life was completely different to the one she led now, but as she gazed up towards Alistair on their way to their rooms, she found that liked it as it was.

Yet as the thought crossed her mind, another followed, one that made her heart twist.

If there was a possibility that Alistair's future was to be the new ruler of the country, then where would that leave hers? Where would that leave their relationship?

She anxiously reached out to take his hand, gazing up at him while squeezing it lightly. He looked down at her as they walked, a small smile tugging at his lips.

And this time, she didn't feel reassured.

xxxxxxx

After leaving their group at Redcliffe they made their way south towards Ostagar, riding a horse to reach their destination faster. They expected to still find darkspawn roaming the ruins, so the plan was to quickly sneak into Ostagar and leave with the contents of Cailan's chest.

Alistair rode the horse with her riding behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist as they traveled through the Imperial Highway, south towards the Korkari Wilds.

"Are you sure the others won't cause trouble for the arl?" He asked as he glanced over his shoulder.

She smiled. "They are not children. I'm sure it will be all right."

"Are you sure? Because sometimes it feels like we're babysitting rather than leading a group of seasoned fighters," He said with a chuckle. "Especially when it comes to Oghren."

She laughed lightly. "I'm sure the arl can handle it."

During the hours they traveled the roads were deserted, and not even the birds could be heard in the distance. The trees were bare, and the blades of grass drooped, the green turning a shade of grey. The further south they traveled, the more lifeless the scenery appeared. They had yet to run into darkspawn by the time the ruins were visible from afar, but they could feel their presence.

"Maker… the taint's everywhere," Alistair uttered, his eyes taking in the sight.

She gazed around with a troubled look. "The horde seems to have moved on north. I suppose that means there will be less darkspawn to worry about here."

He frowned. "That's not exactly a good thing."

She sighed. "No. It is not."

When they arrived to the ruins they were desolate, the fields covered in snow. Alistair dismounted and then reached up to help her. She placed her hands on his shoulders, allowing him to carefully lower her to the ground.

The silence was deafening as they began to carefully step into the place where it all began. They entered through the area where they had their meeting with the king on that fateful night. The table where the map once laid was now tipped over on its side. Snow covered the room, having fallen through the holes in the ceiling. They crossed the distance towards where the camp was once set up, more snow covering everything in sight.

Everil's chest felt heavy as they descended the steps towards where the tents once stood, her eyes observing their surroundings. Pieces of armor and weapons lay scattered, while the tents were long gone, torn down by the darkspawn after invading the area.

"I never thought we would ever come back here," She said, her tone so low it was nearly difficult for him to hear her words.

"Me neither..." He replied just as quietly, walking beside her.

She paused in her steps, her eyes narrowing. "I feel some enemies nearby. Do you?"

He stopped walking and nodded, facing her. "Yes. Their numbers are manageable, but we best be careful. We should try to avoid fighting them, if possible."

"Agreed," She replied then frowned worriedly. "Perhaps not bringing the others wasn't such a good idea."

"No… I think I like it better this way," He sighed, a breath of smoke escaping his lips while he glanced around, a solemn expression upon his face. "This place… it's too important to us. And fewer numbers attract less attention."

"I suppose you're right," She uttered a she resumed her walk.

Alistair now walked ahead, looking for the spot where the king's tent was located back then. It was difficult to tell where everything was, as the layers of snow covered most of the remains. A large chest in the distance then got his attention. He began to cautiously walk towards it, followed by Everil as she adjusted her flowing cloak around her shoulders.

He slowly approached the still locked wooden trunk, while Everil glanced towards the desk beside it, its surface covered in more of the white powder. She then gazed towards Alistair as he took a knee, reaching into his pocket for the key.

"Is that Cailan's chest?" She uttered curiously, folding her arms.

"I think so… it has the royal emblem on it." He produced the key, its golden engraving matching the two mabari hounds on the royal seal.

While he worked on opening the chest Everil looked around, keeping her guard up for any of the enemies they sensed. She could feel their presence close by, but couldn't see them, which meant they could be below them or in hiding.

Alistair opened the chest, wondering what it was Cailan put away for him to find. And when he looked into its depths, his eyes grew wide.

"Maker…" He whispered, reaching inside to lift a mighty long sword, robust in appearance, yet elegant in its design. Its weight was well balanced, intended to allow the wielder to move fast without compromising attack, meanwhile minimizing the fatigue a weapon's weight can cause.

He saw Cailan wield it during their previous battles against darkspawn, and he had the vague notion of also having seen it elsewhere. Regardless, it was obviously a much better blade than the one he carried.

He looked in the chest once more to see several letters, one of them with his name on it. He set the blade on the ground next to him and reached down, pulling out the folded paper. Upon eyeing the first sentence, another look of bewilderment dawned upon him, his chest tightening as he continued to read through the words.

 _Dear Alistair,_

 _If you are reading this, then we have failed to stop the Blight and I have perished along with my soldiers during battle. My death will no doubt throw Ferelden into political chaos, and those in the nobility will be scrambling to make sense of things without their king. It will be a dark and difficult time for everyone, but it will no doubt be far more difficult for you._

 _With me gone, you will seek my uncle's help against the Blight. And I imagine Eamon will wish for you to take my place in the throne. Your upbringing may have caused for you to doubt such a possibility would ever present itself, and you might even be resenting father for it all. You will question your ability to carry the burdens of a king, and be adamant in your refusal to take the reins._

 _However, you should know that the hardships you experienced throughout your life have brought upon you knowledge that is valuable beyond what can be taught in books. Your struggles have given you strength and humility, while the time you spent close to the people gave you a perspective I never had._

 _Such experience allowed you to see our people's way of life, has shown you their challenges and revealed to you their needs. All which is everything you need to know to become a good ruler._

 _To aid you in this, I bequeath to you father's sword, as he once passed it on to me upon his death. Wield it with pride. For although fate demanded our paths be different, you earned my respect as a man and as a friend during the short time we fought together against the Blight._

 _So when you stand before the Landsmeet and the archdemon, remember I believed in you, and that you alone have the ability to bring Ferelden back from the brink._

 _Maker watch over you, little brother._

 _\- Cailan_

Alistair slowly lowered the letter, shock still in his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

He glanced up at her, her concerned eyes upon him.

"He knew I was his brother… he knew all along," He uttered, his gaze returning to the words in the letter as his grip on the paper tightened. "That's why he sent us to the tower that night… why he tried to keep me away from the battle."

Everil's expression turned into a somber one, her tone soft as she spoke. "Then odds are Duncan probably knew about the King's plan too… which is why he agreed to send us both to the tower."

"I should have been there with them…" He uttered quietly.

"He saved your life." She placed her hand upon his shoulder, standing close to him in an effort to comfort him. " _They_ saved your life… mine too."

He let out a breath, his hand coming up to hers. "I know… I suppose his plan worked. We've come so far..."

Alistair then folded the letter and slid it into his pocket before he looked into the chest once more, picking up one of the other letters. He opened them and began skimming over them.

"Everil… He'd already sought the help of the Orlesians against the Blight."

"What?" She reached down as he handed her the letter he was reading.

"These letters are from Empress Selene, the Empress of Orlais," Alistair added. "It looks like Cailan had been in talks with her since before Duncan and I told him about the Blight."

"They were negotiating a peace treaty…" Everil quietly said before pressing her lips into a thin line.

Ferelden and Orlais never truly settled their disputes since King Maric took back the throne from the Orlesian usurper. A peace treaty would have officially ended the war between the two countries, thus opening the opportunity to gain a new ally. In this case, a powerful ally willing to join forces with Ferelden against the Blight.

"Maker's breath…" Alistair suddenly stood, the blade in his hand. "What if Loghain found out about this? What if that's why he betrayed Cailan?"

"It's possible…. He was obviously angry when Cailan suggested seeking their help," She replied softly, handing him the letter. "He wanted you to have them. Keep them."

"Right…" He neatly folded the letters, stashing them in his bag.

Movement nearby had them whirl around as a genlock emerged from behind a pile of snow. And upon seeing them, it cried out, calling forth more of its brethren.

"Well… it took them long enough," Everil muttered, drawing her daggers.

"Let's finish them quickly," Alistair drew his old blade and stuck it to the ground, bringing up his father's sword in its place.

The genlocks charged towards them with their axes above their heads, screeching through jagged teeth. Everil met them halfway, dodging a strike as she whirled around, stabbing the creature on the side of the head. Alistair blocked an axe with his shield, then pushed forth, hitting the genlock's face with it and making him lose its balance. Alistair then swung his sword sideways, easily decapitating it, its head flying to the side.

In minutes all but one lied dead, their severed limbs and slashed bodies coating the snow a dark red.

Everil glanced over her shoulder as it snuck away, holding something in its claws.

"Hey!" Alistair took a step. "That's the Joining Chalice! The one Duncan used to use!"

She frowned, a bad feeling descending upon her. "Hold on… this doesn't-"

Before she could say anything else, Alistair sheathed his sword and began to chase after the creature, leaving her standing by what remained of the late king's belongings.

"W-wait! Alistair!" She ran after him, sheathing her blades.

The genlock laughed as its small legs carried it, looking over at them as it neared the bridge that stretched out to the Tower of Ishal.

"Give that back you little bastard!" Alistair yelled angrily, running around more rubble as Everil followed them.

Everil cursed under her breath as they reached the bridge, catching up to him as they began to cross. "Alistair stop! It could be a trap!"

Just as she said that the genlock halted, turning to face them as a hurlock wielding a staff joined it, along with more darkspawn that began to make their way across from the other side. Seeing this, both Grey Wardens stopped in their tracks, watching as the hurlock began to chant, summoning a fireball that shot straight towards them.

"Look out!" Alistair tackled her to the ground, shielding her with his body as the flame zoomed over them, narrowly missing them and hitting a pillar behind them. He then rolled them over, dodging the axe of the genlock still holding the chalice. Now on top, Everil sat up, straddling his hips while drawing her bow as the hurlock began to chant once more.

She quickly aimed and fired, the arrow hitting the creature between the eyes and immediately silencing him. The two then promptly detangled themselves from each other and rose, Alistair punching the genlock to knock it back before drawing his sword to cut it down.

She continued to fire her arrows, taking out several enemies as they charged towards them. Alistair stepped forth and quickly dispatched the rest, slicing through them and letting them fall on a pool of their own blood.

He let out a breath and put away his sword once more, glancing towards her just in time to see the irritated look she was shooting his way.

"I know, I know..." He muttered before kneeling to pick up the Joining Chalice. "Totally worth it though…"

"Is that really it?" Everil asked as she walked up to him, eyeing the cup that changed her life forever.

"Yes…"

"That means we have part of what we need to make new Grey Wardens, as well as a memento from Duncan," She said with a small smile.

He nodded slowly and then handed her the cup. "You carry it. You have more room in your bag."

"All right." She gently took it, noticing the sad look that crossed his eyes.

As she put it away, he looked past her at something behind her, anger dawning upon his features. "Those… bastards…"

Everil shifted to look in the same direction, color draining from her face at the sight.

At the center of the overpass, stripped of armor and clothes, Cailan's naked body hung from a makeshift altar that rose high for all to see. It was an obvious display of victory over the king and a warning to all who dared challenge the darkspawn horde.

Alistair took tentative steps forward, his eyes glued upon his pale corpse, the smell of rotting flesh reaching his nose. The sight of his brother's body having been used in such a way made his blood boil, his hands curling into fists.

Everil stood beside him, looking up at the corpse with a disturbed look in her eyes. This man was once a friend to her and her brother, and her family served him loyally throughout his rule. His bright smile crossed her mind, and she felt her heart twist at the memory.

"He deserves a proper ceremony..." Alistair said quietly, his anger slowly fading into sadness. "He was royalty… a pyre would be appropriate…"

"Yes… l agree," She uttered as she stepped up to the altar.

They both worked together to carefully lower his body, unfazed by the state of decomposition he was in. They made their way back to the edge of the woods by the ruins, where they gathered wood into a large pile.

The sun was beginning to set by the time they finished gathering what they needed, but they continued on, placing the corpse upon the carefully laid out wood. Alistair then knelt beside it, using his flint to set the makeshift pyre aflame. As the fire spread, he stepped back to stand beside her, eyeing the flames as they engulfed the wood and ultimately wrapped around the king's still form.

Their horse shifted behind them as the two watched the pyre burn in solemn silence, the flames reflecting upon their tired eyes.

And as Alistair watched Cailan's body burn, he realized it didn't feel like he was laid to rest. It didn't feel like they were done honoring his death. Not while the country remained in chaos, ravaged by the Blight and ruled by a traitor. But there was only one way to ensure they obtained victory over their enemies. The only way to fulfill Cailan's wishes and keep the lands from falling prey to more uncertainty and desperation.

"I'm going to be King..."

Everil's head snapped in his direction, her eyes wide with surprise at his unexpected words.

"You will?" She asked softly.

He nodded slowly. "Whether I like it or not, I was born a Prince. I can't run away from that forever… not while Ferelden needs me."

With a loving smile she reached out to take his hand, gently squeezing it as she spoke. "I understand… I will help you in any way I can."

"I was going to ask anyway," He uttered as he returned her smile, bringing her hand up to his lips for a soft kiss. "Thank you…"

She couldn't tell exactly what changed his mind, but she learned then just how much he changed throughout their journey. Yet although she was glad he made the decision, a strange feeling of dread crawled its way into her chest.

Without lands or her father's title, she would be nothing but a commoner to the Landsmeet. And a commoner could not be with a king.

Moment later they climbed onto the horse to make their way back, and she wrapped her arms around his waist once more, holding on to him a little tighter while silently hoping there would still be room for her in his future as the new king.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter XX

Everil looked out the carriage window as the landscape passed them by, the sound of the horses galloping through the dirt road filling her ears. They were on their way to Denerim and towards Arl Eamon's estate as she and Alistair traveled with him, the rest of their party riding their horses behind them.

She and Alistair had not spoken much about his decision since Ostagar, and she assumed it was mostly because he was not exactly thrilled by the idea. The others did not yet discuss it either, instead following her lead as usual. She glanced towards him, seeing him gaze out the window while leaning his cheek against his hand, a bored look upon his face.

At Eamon's instruction, he was forced to relinquish the Grey Warden armor, replacing it with a fine brown leather vest that went past his hips, perfectly wrapping around his torso over a white, long sleeved tunic. Dark brown breeches replaced his old blue ones, while brown boots went up his strong calves. The attire made him look more like a noble than a knight, and he was obviously uncomfortable with it all. But she couldn't deny it took her breath away the moment he stepped out of his room wearing it.

Eamon's voice snapped her back to reality.

"Loghain will be greeting us upon our arrival. Needless to say we must play our cards right and keep the arguing for the Landsmeet."

"Arguing is nothing… I want to break that traitorous bastard's neck with my own hands," Alistair uttered moodily.

"Which is exactly what I mean. You must maintain your composure no matter what happens." The arl then turned his stern gaze towards her. "The same applies to you, Lady Everil. Rendon Howe will undoubtedly be there with him. You mustn't lose sight of our goal by focusing on vengeful thoughts. Remember… if we fail, everything can go horribly wrong."

"I… understand," She replied stiffly.

"The plan is to convince the Landsmeet that Alistair is the best choice. To demonstrate he has what is necessary to be the new King of Ferelden, while also proving Loghain not only betrayed my nephew, but is also no longer suited to hold a position of power."

"I just want him to pay for what he did to us," Alistair said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"And justice will come to him, boy. Let us worry about one thing at a time, for now."

Moments later they reached Denerim and the carriage stopped just outside the royal palace, their first stop to arrange a meeting amongst the lords. Eamon stepped out of the carriage first, followed by Alistair. And as she began to exit the carriage, Alistair offered her his hand, a small smile upon his lips. The subtle action made her heart skip a beat as she returned his smile, taking his hand and allowing him to help her down.

They followed the arl, and when they approached the palace doors Eamon stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as their welcome party came into view.

Loghain walked with his head held high, his expression cold and calculating as he regarded the three. Rendon Howe followed closely, a retinue of soldiers walking behind them, all well-armed.

Alistair's jaw tensed, anger rising within him as he willed himself not to draw his sword at the man who betrayed the king and left them all for dead.

"Eamon. It's good to see you still live. We heard you were… indisposed for some time," Loghain greeted dryly, offering his hand to the old man.

"It is an honor for the regent to greet us, sire," Eamon stiffly shook it. "And I feel better than ever. Thank you for your concern."

Loghain briefly glanced towards the two Wardens, seemingly unfazed by their presence despite the tension in the air between them. He then cast a look of distaste upon the arl. "You risk a great deal with what you're trying to do here, Eamon. The Landsmeet will never appeal to these murderers."

"The Blight demands we work together and Ferelden needs a king to unify the lands."

Loghain scowled. "Ferelden has a strong queen. And she will lead this country to victory over the Blight and all who threaten it."

"Alistair is Maric's son. He has a stronger claim to the crown than your daughter, Loghain. Even you cannot deny this," Eamon said, clasping his hands behind his back as he met the man's gaze. "Or have you forgotten how much was sacrificed to ensure the throne be under Theirin rule."

"You dare…" A dark look dawned upon Loghain's eyes at his words. "I would never forget what was lost in that war! My own family was butchered, sacrificed to save Maric's life! And it is for them I question your judgment! For regardless of this royal bastard's claims, he remains unqualified to rule. I will not allow anything to threaten Ferelden's stability, even if he is Maric's flesh and blood!"

"Threaten Ferelden's stability? You incited a civil war while darkspawn trample over the lands!" Everil said angrily, unable to hold her tongue any longer.

Loghain's cold gaze then shifted to her. "No one is talking to you, girl!"

Howe sent Everil a snide smile. "I must say, Eamon, I did not think a man of your stature would deal with such classless vermin."

"Damn you..." Everil hissed as she glared heatedly at him from over Eamon's shoulder, her heart blazing with contempt as her hands closed into fists. She wanted nothing but to wipe that smirk off his face, to feel her blade sink into the flesh of his neck and watch his blood run. If only she could close the short distance between her and her target. She was so close. So close and yet unable to do anything to the man who murdered her family in cold blood.

She felt Alistair take hold of her wrist, his eyes still upon their enemies as he stepped closer to her, gently unwrapping her fist to laze his fingers through hers. His reassuring gesture helped ease the flaring hunger for vengeance just enough to keep her from pouncing, and she could tell it did the same for him.

"Let us leave the arguments for the Landsmeet, shall we?" Eamon quietly said, calm and collected despite the hostility between them. "We will meet again once the rest of the lords have arrived."

Loghain tilted his chin up coolly. "Just pray to the Maker you will not end up spending what remains of your miserable life locked away in Fort Drakon over this, Eamon. I would hate to see that happen to an old friend."

With that Loghain whirled around, heading back into the castle, his retinue following behind him.

xxxxxxx

Arl Eamon's Denerim estate was nearly as large as her family's had been, well kept by the servants. Each of their party members had retired to their rooms to unpack their belongings, while Everil and Alistair had been called to Eamon's office. They were limited on time, and the arl was working on finding a way to defeat Loghain in the Landsmeet since the moment they arrived.

When they reached the door, they could hear muffled voices coming from within. And upon entering they were met with two cloaked women, who were in conversation with the arl.

"You called for us, my lord?" Everil asked quietly, a puzzled look upon her brow.

The women turned their attention to them, their faces hidden by dark cloaks.

"Yes, my lady," Eamon said, gesturing to the one standing next to him. "We have an important guest who has offered to help us in the Landsmeet. I am sure you have already met her."

One of them reached up with delicate fingers, pulling back the hood to reveal her beautiful features.

Everil's eyes widened. "Queen Anora?"

Anora cast an elegant smile upon her. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Lady Everil. You look lovely despite the armor."

She lightly bowed her head, ignoring the odd-sounding complement. "The pleasure is mine, your Majesty."

The queen's eyes then shifted to the other Warden, her smile faltering as her eyes took on a different glint.

"Alistair… Who knew the boy running about Arl Eamon's castle was actually King Maric's illegitimate son?" Her smile then disappeared, replaced by a chilling look. "I did not even realize it was you when you came to Denerim as a Grey Warden, seeking my late husband's help against the Blight. Now you have returned once more, this time for the crown. I suppose that makes you a man of ambition."

Everil narrowed her eyes, sensing the malice in her words. There was no doubt in her mind the woman felt threatened by him, knowing that if Alistair took the crown she could be left dethroned.

Alistair eyed her cautiously, stiffly bowing his head. "Good to see you again, your Majesty… though you should know I'm not seeking the crown for my own ambition, but for Ferelden's sake."

Feeling the awkwardness in the room, Eamon cleared his throat. "She has come in secret to offer us her voice in the Landsmeet, which would prove a powerful asset when we present ourselves before the other nobles."

"As you well know, my father is considered a hero throughout Ferelden. His reputation has placed even I at a disadvantage," Anora said as she clasped her hands upon her skirts, her eyes shifting between the two Wardens as she spoke. "I would not consider it a problem if he were fit to lead, but ever since the Blight began he has shown me otherwise. Especially after he came back from the battlefield without… my dear husband."

"What do you say makes him unfit to lead?" Everil inquired, trying to see her view of things.

"His obsession over Orlais has become nearly neurotic. He constantly speaks of how vulnerable we are to another invasion, and of how everyone is against him and his righteous intentions." She drew in a nervous breath. "I fear that if he finds out I sought to aid you…"

Everil frowned in puzzlement. "He would not hurt his only daughter, would he?"

The queen shook her head, her eyes downcast. "I do not know, but I wish for it to remain that way. Even recently, I fear he has been doing terrible things, especially to the elves in our Alianage."

Eamon's brow furrowed at this. "Do you have any details, your Highness?"

"Only that there have been rumors of elves disappearing. They say there is a plague amongst them, but my contacts told me something more is happening. I believe if we find my father has something to do with it, we could help the elves and use that knowledge against him."

"What do you say, Lady Everil?" Eamon spoke quietly, clasping his hands behind his back. "I believe you and your friends would be well suited to investigate."

She nodded. "Of course. I shall take my party and have a look."

Alistair turned his eyes to her. "I'll go with you."

"I'm afraid not, Alistair," Eamon said with a firm tone.

He frowned. "But—"

"We cannot take risks with Loghain knowing of your presence in Denerim. He might try something against you."

Alistair's hands closed into fists, frustration evident in his eyes. "I… understand."

Everil gently placed her hand on his arm, smiling up at him. "Don't worry... We can handle it."

"All right..." He replied with a small smile of his own.

Anora watched their exchange with interest, then lightly touched the arl's arm to draw his attention. "I have a proposition to make, Eamon."

"Of course, your Highness. What is it?"

"Alistair has no experience in politics and he has never held a position of power. I however, have been queen for several years, so my knowledge would be invaluable to him," Anora said with a confident tone, glancing towards a puzzled Alistair. "Therefore, I believe the best way to ensure Ferelden is in good hands is for him to become king through marriage to me."

"What?" Alistair breathed, his eyes widening. And Everil's shocked expression mirrored his.

And as if the queen's proposition were not enough, Eamon nodded his head in agreement. "That may be a wise idea, your Highness."

"W-wait… I haven't agreed to this." Alistair took a step, a horrified look upon his face.

"It is the most sensible approach, boy. Of course, we will have to gain the favor of the nobility first before we make such an announcement."

"In exchange, I shall provide you with my voice and my vote against my father," Anora said, tilting her chin up. "You become King and I remain Queen to help you. We both win."

"Hold on… this is happening too fast." Alistair's eyes nervously switched from the arl to the queen. "I can't marry you, your Highness."

"Why not?" Anora gave him a gentle smile. "Think about it: The people know and love me, while to them you are a stranger. Marrying me would make your coronation much less troubling for them, as well as for the nobility."

Everil's heart twisted painfully as she listened to them talk, the queen's words echoing in her mind. She wanted to speak up, to tell them Alistair belonged to her and no one else. But as much as she wanted to deny it, there was truth in her words. Alistair marrying her would be best for Ferelden, especially after the chaos the Blight would leave behind.

Besides, there was no way the Landsmeet would favor her marrying the new king. For next to the queen she was nothing, a noble only in name. The knot in her throat at the realization made it increasingly difficult to breathe, and although Alistair turned to her in alarm, begging her to help him, she couldn't speak.

"I uhm…" Alistair swallowed anxiously, questioning why Everil remained silent as he turned his attention to the queen. "Wouldn't you feel uncomfortable? I mean… we don't even know each other."

Anora walked up to him then, smiling lightly as she reached up to place her hand upon his cheek. "Hmm…"

Alistair stiffened, unsure of what to do. The woman he loved was clearly upset, but if they spoke now he risked ruining their chances to keep the queen's support.

"I don't believe I would mind at all. In fact… I think it is convenient you look so much like Cailan," She uttered, her blue eyes meeting his. "It would make our… transition… much easier on me."

"What…?" He uttered, suddenly feeling deeply disturbed.

"I'm heading for the Alianage," Everil blurted out, interrupting the conversation. "Excuse me!"

"Everil wait!" Alistair turned to the door, just as it slammed behind her. "Blast it…" He whispered, wanting to follow, yet somehow unable to move.

"Is she going to be all right?"

He gazed towards Anora's concerned look and could only sigh, not knowing the answer to her question.

xxxxxxx

Later that day Everil and her chosen party returned to the estate after having investigated the Alianage. She was distracted the entire time, but they were able to find the information they sought. Loghain was selling elves to Tevinter as slaves, something that shocked even her.

She hesitated by Arl Eamon's office door, hearing Alistair's voice from the other side. She couldn't quite make out what they were saying, their voices muffled by the thick wood of the door.

She drew in a breath, gathering her courage and reaching for the doorknob, turning it before stepping in. "I'm back."

Alistair stood from his chair and turned his troubled eyes to her, but she kept her eyes away from his, focusing instead on the arl.

"What did you find?" Eamon asked from behind his desk.

"Loghain was selling the elves as slaves to Tevinter."

His eyes widened. "By the Maker…"

"He was planning to sell the entire Alianage. We do not know why, but that alone is bad enough," She added solemnly, a frown creasing her brow.

"I agree…" Arl Eamon shook his head in dismay. "Maker forgive me… but thanks to this information we may be able to prove to the others how unstable he is. We must-"

"Arl Eamon!"

The three turned to the door as it burst open, the same woman who had been with the queen before running in, this time without the hood that concealed her. She was an elf, which meant she was likely a servant to the queen.

"What is it? What's the matter?" Eamon rose from his chair, walking around his desk.

"Her majesty she has been captured!" She said in alarm.

"What? By who?" Eamon demanded with concern.

"Teyrn Rendon Howe… I-I fear at Teyrn Loghain's orders."

"Howe…" Everil echoed, her lips pressing into a thin line.

The elf took in a deep breath. "We were on our way here to tell you there is a Grey Warden imprisoned in Howe's estate, but he found us and took her away! There was nothing I could do!"

"A Grey Warden?" Alistair asked, surprise etched upon his eyes. "Who is it? What's his name?"

"I do not know…" She shook her head. "We only know he was captured at around the same time Ostagar fell, and has been asking for you ever since."

Alistair turned to Everil, who stiffened under his stare. "We have to help him, whoever it is."

The elf frowned. "What about my queen? Please, you must save her!"

Everil turned inquisitive eyes to the maid. "Are they both still in Howe's estate?"

She nodded. "Yes. But her majesty is in one of the guest rooms. Your Warden friend is in a cell, in the dungeon."

Everil folded her arms with a pensive look. "That used to be my family's Denerim estate. I may be able to get them both out of there."

"I'm going with you this time," Alistair said firmly.

"Alistair. I already said it would be best for you to remain here," Eamon protested with an irritated look in his eyes.

He met his gaze, standing his ground. "I'm a Grey Warden before all else. I won't leave this all to Everil and I won't abandon one of my brothers."

Eamon paused for a moment, then let out a sigh. "Very well… but you mustn't take unnecessary risks, understood?"

"I've survived this long against everything thrown our way. I'm sure I can handle it," He said with a lopsided smile.

"I know my way in as well. And the soldiers know me," The elf said with a confident look. "I think it would be best if the two of you focus on rescuing your friend and create a diversion for the queen and myself to escape."

Everil nodded slightly. "That sounds like a good plan, but we will need a quick way in and a way out."

"We can enter through the servant's door. I have already arranged for a friend to drop off disguises near the building. We can use them to make our way in. Once we reach her majesty, you can continue on to the dungeons. I will know if your diversion worked when the soldiers ring the bell of alert," Erlina then produced a key from her pocket, handing it to her. "This key is your way out. It opens one of the gates in the back of the estate."

Alistair crossed his arms with a mildly impressed look. "You thought of every detail, it seems."

"Of course I did… I am her majesty's most trusted maid for a reason," She said with a sweet smile, which faded as she faced the female Warden. "We should go immediately. I will be waiting by the estate."

"All right then. I will go fetch the others and meet you there," Everil uttered and turned on her heel, heading for the door while Alistair followed.

The two were walking down the hall when he finally spoke. "Everil hold on a second."

But she pretended not to hear and instead walked quickly, heading towards Leliana's room.

"I said wait!" He reached out, grabbing her by the arm and halting her in her tracks.

She froze, her heart racing as it twisted painfully within her chest. "We don't have time for this, Alistair. The queen-"

"Forget the queen!"

Her eyes widened as her head snapped towards him, meeting his gaze.

"I won't marry her..." He quietly told her, his eyes boring into hers.

"You don't have a choice…" She said, her voice nearly a whisper.

"I do have a choice. I'll explain everything to the arl. I'm sure we can find a way through this without her."

"You know that's not possible," She told him as she glared up at him, the pain in her chest straining her words. "You need her help... Without her support, the Landsmeet will never accept you as the successor to the throne."

"Then I'll give up the crown..." He uttered stubbornly, reaching up to gently stroke her cheek. "I don't want to be King if I have to marry another woman."

"No…" She breathed shakily, a knot forming in her throat as she took a step back, tearing her eyes away from his. "You cannot choose me over Ferelden. I would never forgive myself."

"Then what do you propose I do?" His brow furrowed in frustration. "Without you, I… I can't-"

"It's over…" She cut in as she gazed up at him, a sad smile spreading upon her quivering lips. "I can't be with you anymore..."

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, forcing the air out of him. "But I…" He whispered, unable to find his voice.

The sight of his anguished expression instantly made her regret it, but she told herself it was for his sake and for Ferelden's. That it was best to get it done and let him move on with his life as soon as possible, even if it made her feel as if she were dying inside.

"I'm sorry…" She uttered and then whirled around to run down the hall, desperate to put distance between them.

He watched her go, motionless despite his desire to chase after her as his heart was viciously torn. He wanted to protest, to go straight to the arl and defy him. But she was right about it all. Once again, his blood deprived him of the life he wanted, taking away his happiness and replacing it with nothing but the crippling weight of duty it carried. If only he had realized sooner that his decision would cause him to lose what he most treasured.

If only she would have stopped him and been selfish for a change.

He found himself wondering if perhaps their relationship had been doomed from the start, if they even had a chance. For she would always place responsibility ahead of her personal desires, duty above what was best for her. It was her selflessness that which made her a great leader, and what drew him to her ever since they met.

Yet despite the misery and anger he felt at her seemingly heartless dismissal, he didn't regret falling in love with her.

With a heavy sigh, he began walking towards the estate doors, struggling to control the painful feelings swarming his chest as the walls passed him by. They were to save a fellow Warden and continue working together to end the Blight. He only hoped he would be able to bear being so close to her until the end.

xxxxxxx

Leliana and Zevran eyed the two of them as they walked ahead, their cloaks covering their heads while on their way to Howe's estate. Alistair walked steps behind Everil, who was leading the way as usual, neither of them talking, and both with their shoulders slumped.

Zevran edged towards the nun. "You think something happened between them?"

Leliana frowned worriedly as she quietly responded. "Evy said Alistair will have to marry the queen… she has been rather upset ever since."

Zevran's eyes narrowed as they moved to the back of Alistair's head. "Bastard…"

"I don't believe it's Alistair's fault… I think Evy is trying to ensure he gets the crown."

"Why?"

"Perhaps because she thinks it's the right thing to do. One must sometimes make sacrifices for the good of all," She uttered quietly, gazing at her friend with a sympathetic look upon her eyes.

Once they arrived to the estate, the maid whistled their way, beckoning them to her. She hid behind a flower bush, a pile of armor on the ground next to her. The group ducked under the bushes as the maid began to whisper. "We must move quickly. Howe is inside at the moment."

Everil's eyes narrowed. "He is…?"

Alistair glanced towards her, his brow creasing worriedly.

Erlina nodded. "Now change. Those are the disguises."

"I have a better plan," Everil uttered, reaching up to slide off her hood. "Even if you reach the room where the queen is being held captive, there is no guarantee we will make it to the dungeon. But Howe and his men want me dead, so I can use that to our advantage." She glanced to her companions. "Zevran and Leliana will disguise themselves as guards and fool the castle staff into believing they captured me. They can then take me to the dungeon without trouble. Once we're there I will take care of the rest."

"What about me?" Alistair asked quietly, already disliking the plan.

"You will disguise yourself and wait here for the bell of alert. Once the guards begin rushing in, you will walk in with Erlina. One guard will not draw as much attention, and you can protect the queen should things go awry." Everil replied evenly.

"Wait…" Erlina cut in. "The Grey Warden called specifically for Ser Alistair. Shouldn't he be coming with you?"

Everil gave her an odd look at her insistence.

"I agree with her," Alistair said sternly. "Maker knows what he's been through. He might not trust you if he's never met you, and I don't much like the idea of you going in without me."

She gazed up at him with gentle eyes, her features softening. A look that made his heart churn painfully.

"As much as you hate to hear this, it's too dangerous for you to come with us. You and the queen have to leave this place as soon as possible," She quietly told him, her voice firm despite the awkwardness between them.

"Everil… Howe will be waiting," He murmured, his hand gently taking hers.

"I am hoping for that..." She gently pulled her hand away and reached back to lightly draw her family's sword, the moonlight reflecting upon the sharp edge before she snapped it back in place. She then turned to the others. "Get ready. We are going in."

And as instructed, all slid on the armor except for Everil and the maid.

Once done she nodded towards Zevran and Leliana. "Let's go."

Alistair watched anxiously as she began to walk with their companions, pretending to have her hands bound behind her back. He and the maid observed from a distance as the three entered the estate, disappearing from sight.

xxxxxxx

"Move it!"

"I'm going already!" Everil snapped as one of them shoved her forward through the door.

They crossed the hallways of the estate without a problem, receiving smirks from the passing soldiers as they laughed at her apparent misfortune. But she was too busy staring at the familiar walls to notice or care, anger boiling within her upon seeing Rendon Howe's emblem replacing her own.

Her gaze darkened.

She was so close to him now, with nothing to keep her from making her way to him and ending his miserable existence. But she had to focus on her task for now.

After making it to the dungeon, they continued on towards the cells, passing several soldiers as they went in through the narrow passages.

"So easy…" Zevran muttered with a snicker.

"The hardest part will be getting out with them on our tail," Everil whispered back.

The dungeon was dark, with only flickering candles lighting the way. It reeked of blood and sweat, and she imagined it wasn't so when her family owned the place. They only hoped their stay would be brief and that they would find who they were looking for quickly.

They soon reached a block of cells, while Everil still pretended to be caught in case they stumbled into more guards. They looked into one of the cells and moved on upon seeing it empty, looking at the next. Finding nothing, they continued to the next block, where a single guard stood before one of the cells.

Zevran and Leliana exchanged glances as they turned the corner towards him, startling him. Then suddenly two arms shot out of the cell, wrapping around the man's head before a sickening crack was heard. His neck broken, the guard fell into a heap and was then dragged into the cage while the three shifted uncomfortably at the sight.

"Maker's breath…" Leliana uttered nervously.

After a moment the cell opened, revealing a dark haired man wearing what was once the guard's armor. He turned his tired eyes to Everil, a relieved expression befalling him upon seeing the emblem on her chest, a look that hardened when his gaze landed on the two guards behind her.

"Let go of that woman!" He demanded, pointing his sword at them.

Zevran gave him a puzzled look. "Do you know this guy, my lady?"

"No…" Everil shook her head and sent the man a subtle frown. "Who are you?"

"Are you not a Grey Warden? And are you not being held captive?" He said with a look that resembled her own.

"I am a Grey Warden, yes. The three of us snuck into the estate to save... wait..." Realization dawned upon her, her brows shooting up. "Are you the Grey Warden Howe captured?"

He slowly lowered his blade, a confused look on his face. "Yes…"

She smiled. "Thank the Maker! We came to rescue you!"

"You did?" He chuckled. "Well... you have impeccable timing."

"I don't remember seeing you in Ostagar."

His smile faltered at her words. "I was sent here from Orlais when we didn't receive a response from Duncan. But when I crossed the border I was captured by Teyrn Loghein's men and brought here. Are you the only Warden left?"

"No. Alistair also lives. I thought you knew?" Everil uttered in bewilderment. "We were told you were asking after him."

"No… I was under the impression every Warden in Ferelden perished. I was actually sent to gather the names of those lost and begin preparations to make new Wardens in order to face the Blight." He breathed out a sigh of relief. "But I am glad to hear he lives… I was present in his Joining Ritual. He was the only one amongst the recruits to face it without fear."

"I see…" Everil folded her arms, a strange feeling settling upon her chest. "Regardless we are here to help you. Let's get you out of here."

"Lead the way, Sister." He said with a small smile, sheathing his long sword behind his back.

As they made for the door, the sound of someone screaming in agony reached their ears, making them pause and turn towards a door across the room.

"That sounded bad…" Zevran muttered.

Everil nodded with a troubled look. "Let's hurry and find out what that was. We don't have much time, but if Loghain imprisoned a Warden it's possible he has imprisoned others trying to oppose him."

They rushed towards the door and through to the next area, walking through the hall. On their way they passed more cells, within which a prisoner lay on the floor, naked and curled into a ball.

"Was it him?" Leliana asked quietly.

"Hey…" Everil murmured, getting closer to the gate and gazing down at the man.

"Maker forgive me…" He uttered, tears streaming down his face.

"I don't think it was him… but something seems familiar about him." Everil took a step back. "Leliana pick the lock."

"Understood." She replied as she pulled out her lock pick to work on the simple lock, the click sounding out soon after.

Upon opening the gate, Everil stepped in and knelt by the ailing man to take a closer look at his face, when a signet ring on his finger caught her attention. She picked it up, turning the medal and looking at the emblem engraved upon it.

"Andraste forgive me, I let the blood mage escape…" He uttered, seemingly delirious.

"It sounds like he's a templar," Leliana told her.

"He is… He's the brother of the Bann of the Waking Sea, Alfstanna Eremon." The Warden's gaze softened as she gave him a sympathetic look. "What blood mage are you talking about?"

"The one… who escaped the Circle not long ago… I had him cornered," He said hoarsely, shivering on the ground. "Just as… I was about to capture him… Howe's men…"

"Maker's mercy…" Everil uttered in disbelief. "Are you talking about Jowan the mage?"

The name made him tilt his head to her with guilt ridden eyes. "Yes… I failed as a templar… I let him go…! Maker forgive me!"

"That's terrible! Disrupting a templar's duties is sacrilege," Leliana said with a disturbed frown.

"I know who you are…" Irminric uttered, pulling a ring from his finger and taking the Warden's wrist to place it upon her hand. "Please… you must bring this… to my sister. Please…"

"But we can help you out of here," Everil told him, a confused look upon her brow as he placed the piece jewelry on her palm.

"It's too late for me… I have been… without lyrium for far too long." He shuddered, a cold sweat running down his brow. "Just… please tell her… tell her to pray for me… so that I may find my way to the Maker… in the Fade."

A soft breath then escaped his lips as his head lolled to the side, his eyes rolling into his skull as life left him.

Everil's lips pressed into a thin line as she held the ring tightly in her fist.

Suddenly another scream echoed in the hall, making her rise to her feet.

"There it is again. Let's hurry!"

They ran through the next door, following the stream of screams until they reached a large room full of torture devices. Everil curled the nose in disgust at the stench of blood, the sight of the horrid tools of torture cluttering the room sickening to her stomach.

"This Howe man likes a little extra fun I take it?" Zevran muttered with an amused smile. "No wonder he wanted to bring you in alive..."

"Bastard..."She breathed, an involuntary shudder running up her spine at the possibility of ending up on one of the devices.

"Going against Teyrn Howe is bad for your health, Ser!" A maniacal laugh echoed from an adjacent room, drawing their attention. Everil put her finger to her lips and carefully edged closer to the edge of the wall, listening to the conversation.

"My father will have him hanged for this!" A younger voice said within, before a cranking noise was heard, along with more agonizing screams.

With a scowl, the Warden drew her blade then, stepping in without hesitation.

"Stop what you're doing this instant!" She snapped towards the burly man before her, pointing her weapon at him.

"What in the…" The torturer released his lever and turned to her in surprise, only to have an arrow buried between the eyes.

Everil watched as he pummeled to the floor, then glanced over her shoulder to Leliana, who regarded his corpse coldly.

"Who… who's there!" The man upon the stretching bench called weakly, his arms and legs tied to each end.

"Release the lever," Everil commanded to her party, at which Riordan responded by approaching the mechanism and releasing it. She stepped towards the prisoner, ignoring his state of undress as she began untying the rope around his wrist.

"You… you seem familiar…" He said weakly, gazing up at the beautiful face hovering so close to his.

"You do too. I'm Everil Cousland, of the Grey Wardens."

"Maker's breath… you're Bryce Cousland's daughter?" He cleared his throat, his voice hoarse from the screaming. "I'm Oswyn… Bann Sighard's son… Did father send you to help me?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid not. We just happened to stumble upon you here."

He let out sarcastic chuckle. "Oh... father probably doesn't even know that snake was doing this to me."

"Why did Howe do this?" She asked him quietly as she finished undoing his ankle straps.

"I… a friend of mine was in Ostagar, serving under Teyrn Loghain. He told me Loghain ordered his men to turn their backs on the king before he was overpowered by the darkspawn…" He let out a loud groan as he sat up, his joints protesting with every move he made. "He disappeared days after he told me… and then when I went looking for him I was foolish enough to take a drink from a stranger… and ended up here."

Everil sighed at his story, completely unsurprised by it. "Well… you now have the chance to escape. I don't suggest you come with us, as we will be running into danger shortly. But you can use the commotion to find your way out."

He frowned quizzically. "Commotion? What are you trying to do? And why are you here if not to save me?"

"It's not relevant to you at the moment…" She said firmly, stepping back from him to allow him to get off the table. "All you need to know is that I'm trying to help Prince Alistair claim his rightful place on the throne. For this, a Landsmeet will take place soon… if you wish to repay me for saving your life, then you can do so by giving us your support."

"Prince Alistair?" He asked, the name new to his ears.

"He is King Maric's illegitimate son… half-brother to our late king," She quietly told him, folding her arms. "He is a good man worthy of the throne. And if you know anything of my family, you will also know I do not make such claims lightly."

He eyed her for a moment, taking in the confidence in her eyes before giving her a subtle nod. "Of course… you have my word. My father and I will give you and the Prince our vote."

"Thank you." She smirked. "Now if you'll excuse us… we have some chaos to unleash."

xxxxxxx

The ongoing sound of the estate's bell rang through the night as soldiers rushed through the halls, announcing the escape of several prisoners. Meanwhile Alistair glanced worriedly down the hall as more guards ran through and past the queen's room, ignoring the maid as she worked on the lock.

 _There's so many… Maker I hope she's already out of the building._

"Done!" She uttered triumphantly as the click was heard, putting away her wires.

He turned around as the door opened, seeing Anora standing in the room.

"Erlina!" She exclaimed with relief, turning to her maid.

"Your Highness, I'm so glad you're safe," She approached her, immediately throwing her cloak around Anora's shoulders as the queen gazed upon the armored man before them.

"Who is this?" Anora inquired with a suspicious look towards the man.

"It's me," Alistair responded as he reached up and took off his helmet, receiving a surprised look from her in response.

She sent her maid a brief glance. "Alistair… What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He replied irritably as he reached out to take her hand. "Come on. We don't have much time."

Anora gazed up at him as he pulled on her and he completely ignoring the glare she sent his way at his rudeness.

Erlina followed them closely, her eyes cautiously glancing behind them.

"I must say, I find it difficult to believe you've come to save me at your own accord… last we spoke you seemed utterly flustered by my presence," Anora said, picking up her skirts to keep herself from tripping as they ran.

"Most usually don't question the person saving their life," He retorted, then stopped in his tracks, pulling her to him to hide behind a wall as one of the servants walked past it.

Her eyes darkened. "Am I wrong then?"

He sighed, giving her an annoyed look. "Does it matter? My friends are currently risking their lives so we can make it out of here in one piece. So please stop wasting time, your Highness."

She turned her gaze away, proudly lifting her chin.

They continued running, with Anora barely able to keep up with him until they turned a corner towards the gates. But instead of having an open path, one of Loghain's best, Leautinant Cauthrien, blocked their way along with two other soldiers.

Alistair stopped and cursed under his breath, while Cauthrien met his gaze with her sharp blue eyes.

"When I heard the commotion, I came running to retrieve the queen. Yet it seems you have managed to abduct her from right under my nose," She said coldly, her hand reaching back to draw her greatsword. "Unhand her majesty, Grey Warden, or suffer the consequences."

"You've got it all wrong. I came to save her from you," Alistair replied, narrowing his eyes. "Loghain locked her up against her will, so she asked for our help."

"Is that so?" Cauthrien lifted a brow, shifting her eyes to the queen. "Does he speak the truth, your Majesty?"

"No. I know not what he speaks of," She replied, pulling her hand out of his grip.

He shot her a bewildered look. "What?"

"Kill him!" Cauthrien commanded.

Alistair drew his blade just in time to block the woman's massive sword, gritting his teeth at the force of her attack. He then veered it to the side, trying to stab it into the ground, but she pulled it back and swung sideways, forcing him to duck. He had to step back to dodge another swing, then blocked the sword from one of her guards. He let the guard swing again, but this time he dodged and drove his blade into his gut, easily running him through.

Anora's nose curled at the sight, but she couldn't turn her eyes away as she watched him kick the dying man off his sword to engage the other guard.

He drew his shield this time, using it to deflect the blade and making the man's sword vibrate loudly. Alistair then quickly swung diagonally, slashing from his chest down to his side as more blood splattered on the expensive carpet.

Cauthrien clicked her tongue and charged, bringing down her blade. "You dare spill my men's blood!"

"They started it!" Alistair snapped as he blocked with his shield.

She then swung again, but this time Alistair struck at just the right angle to deflect her sword, making it stab through a piece of furniture. She let out a frustrated grunt and brought her blade down again, as Alistair dodged and swung, gracing her cheek.

She immediately stepped back, avoiding another hit before she paused, glaring heatedly at him while reaching up to wipe the blood from her skin.

Alistair merely met her glare with one of his own, unfazed by the hostility in her gaze.

Anora's eyes widened as she watched, slightly impressed at his display of skill. She knew Grey Wardens were good, but she hadn't realized they were capable of standing on even ground with her father's most trusted officer.

"Harming a woman is not very Prince-like, Warden," Cauthrien uttered, poison in her voice as she dropped into her stance, both hands on her sword's hilt.

Alistair gave her a lopsided smirk. "Hey, you raised your blade at me first. That pretty much throws chivalry out the window."

"Shut up!" Cauthrien then rushed him again, intent on ending it. She swung down upon his unguarded side, but as he did he timed a perfect hit with his shield. It knocked her blade to the side and onto the floor. Then suddenly his sword pierced her body, easily cutting through the armor and out through her back.

Anora's hand flew to her lips and she guiltily looked away.

"Curse... you..." Cauthrien muttered breathlessly, her hands releasing her sword to cling to him, grabbing a handful of his cloak. "You... you will never... be a fitting king for this country..."

"You blindly followed the man who let Cailan die and ignored the crimes he committed against many others. You're in no position to judge me," Alistair said coldly, then pulled back his sword and let her body fall onto a pool of blood, leaving her gasping for air as she slowly faded.

Alistair then sheathed his blade. With a scowl he turned to the queen, while she merely stared back, eyes as cold as ice as she pressed her painted lips into a thin line.

He walked up to her and grabbed her wrist, pulling on her as they made for the door. And although he didn't ask the questions plaguing his mind right there and then, he fully intended to get answers later.

xxxxxxx

Everil and her party turned a corner as they ran, taking down as many soldiers as they could. Then made it to the next room, closing the door behind them before the armored men banged on it, shaking it on the hinges.

"That won't hold them for long," Riordan told them.

"The exit is only a few more rooms away. We'll make it before they break the door," Everil said with a confident look.

"Quite doubtful, my dear girl."

Everil's eyes widened and she slowly turned around, her expression changing to a murderous one the moment her eyes landed on his snide smile.

She took a step, her icy blue eyes flaring with a hatred that burned much like the torches lighting the room. Meanwhile her companions stood by, their gaze on the enemies standing beside the hawkish man as they in turn shifted impatiently, some snickering in anticipation.

"Ah Bryce's little spit fire… even under all that blood and armor, you remain as beautiful as your mother." Howe purred darkly, his grin widening.

"Shut up!" She bit out, drawing her sword. "Why did you betray us! You were my father's closest friend! He trusted you… my entire family trusted you!"

"Oh please…" He folded his arms arrogantly, his dark smile widening. "Your father was a traitor who constantly dealt with and received gifts from Orlesian nobles. Meanwhile I faded away in obscurity. I couldn't have that... so he became a tool to me, a stepping stone to regain the Howe name's influence and power."

She bared her teeth. "You bastard…"

"And now I have the ear of a king… you won't take that away from me." He glowered, his smirk fading. "I shall make sure you join your family first. Consider yourself fortunate."

"You will be the one dying tonight, Howe! I shall make sure you pay for every drop of my family's blood!" She snapped and drew her weapons, holding both blades in her hands as her piercing glare remained trained on him.

"Evy, what do you want us to do?" Leliana uttered as she armed herself, the others following suit.

"Kill the guards around him, but leave Howe to me," She commanded, her attention never leaving her target. "No one dare intervene."

The nun nodded. "Understood."

Without further warning Everil charged and raised her blade, aiming for his neck. Howe swiftly drew his daggers, deflecting her attack so quickly she didn't see his blades. She whirled around, bringing her sword in a circle to strike at his side. He deflected it again, and this time he slashed, gracing her side and leaving a thin gash on her armor.

She clicked her tongue and ducked as he slashed at her again before using the same motion to kick down at his feet, trying to knock him off the ground. But she hit nothing but air as he nimbly flipped back, defying the frail appearance his aging body portrayed.

He then rose, giving her an arrogant smile. "You may have been trained by the best teachers coin could buy, but I have experience girl. Something you lack."

Everil didn't answer as she kicked forth. He was fast. But like her, he was a rogue. If she could only predict his movements…

Meanwhile screams filled the room as the others dispatched Howe's men, but she was too focused to look away from her enemy, intent on driving her blade through his throat. They exchanged hits, blocking each other's attacks in a flurry of metal and sparks as beads of sweat began to slide down her brow. The others now watched nervously from the sidelines, astonished to see that neither of them was slowing down.

Everil slashed down with her sword and Howe blocked, then she used the opportunity to strike up with her dagger, slashing at his arm. He snarled as blood sprayed the floor, then slashed with both blades in a crisscross, forcing her back as they screeched over her chest plate, sparks flying upon contact.

Everil swung her leg then, kicking his now open abdomen and effectively forcing the air out of him. But as she followed through with her sword, he smirked up at her and went low while leaning back, dodging her sword's diagonal slash. As he did he swung around, coming up to strike at her exposed side. With a painful cry, she whirled around and stepped back, putting distance between them as blood trickled freely down her side.

"My lady!" Zevran called out worriedly as he and Leliana made to help.

"Don't!"

The two of them froze, their eyes filled with concern as they watched her straighten herself up.

"I have to do this alone," She uttered bitterly, her sharp eyes still focused upon her enemy. She then charged again, ignoring the pain as she swung, hitting nothing as he stepped back and then struck, forcing her to block. She then saw him draw back his arm, and lowered herself, avoiding a horizontal slash. She then struck up, her blade cutting up across his chest.

He grunted and stumbled back. "Damn it!"

Everil then quickly prepared the final blow, but before she could bring down her sword her vision suddenly blurred. She stopped mid step, dropping her dagger to bring her hand up to her burning wound as she fell on a knee.

"What…?" She breathed in bewilderment.

Howe laughed, his hand covering his own injury. "That is all I needed!"

"Poison…" Everil breathed as she glared up at the cackling old man.

He stepped towards her, lifting his blade above his head. "You're mine now… the last Couslands."

Everil gritted her teeth. He was going to strike at her neck. All she had to do was move faster than he. Just slightly faster…

Ignoring the pain and forcing her will upon her numbed muscles, she lunged forth like a viper, bringing up her hand to take hold of his wrist and thrust her blade through his gut.

His eyes grew wide with shock. "You— "

She twisted her sword, the blade piercing his innards before she pulled it back, letting him drop to his knees.

He looked down at his blood covered hands, then up at her, terror filling his eyes at the cold look she cast upon him.

Everil lifted her chin with pride despite the pain, her grip on her family blade firm as she raised it above her head. "This is for my family… vermin." And then she struck, slicing his head clean off and watching as it fell with a sickening thud before it rolled on the stone floor.

She panted for breath as she stared at the corpse of the man who murdered everyone she loved, tearing apart her life. An odd feeling of emptiness settled upon her chest as she took in the scene before her, and then her vision swam, her body swaying as she put her hand to the wall for support.

"My lady!" Zevran ran towards her, reaching out to hold her by the shoulders.

She swallowed and straightened her posture before sheathing her sword, putting on a confident expression. "We're done here… We should hurry, before—"

Just as the words left her mouth, the door behind them burst open and guards came pouring in, now angrier than ever.

"Come on!" Everil shouted as they ran towards the door on the other side, kicking it open.

As they entered a narrow hallway, Leliana turned and fired arrows at the incoming enemies, shooting at their legs in an effort to slow them down as she and her companions fled.

"This way!" Everil called and turned a corner, leading them towards the door she knew the key in her pocket opened.

They soon entered another room, a back passage used for storage. She hastily pulled the key from her pocket as she crossed the distance to the door, intent on opening their only way out. But when she went to use it, the keyhole appeared to double as the toxin in her body disrupted her vision. She blinked in attempt to clear her sight and tried again, missing the keyhole once more.

"Blast it! Leliana!" She called and the nun ran to her. "Open it. I can't focus," She ordered and hurriedly handed her the key before stepping away from the door.

Zevran and Riordan engaged the soldiers that came into the room, locking blades with them. Everil stepped up to help, swinging her sword and taking down one of the guards.

Leliana quickly inserted the key as instructed, but when she turned it there was no click, causing her eyes to widen in horror. "Andraste's mercy…!" Thinking fast, she tossed the key and dug out her lock picking tools, dropping on a knee as she quickly began breaking down the lock.

Everil struck down another guard, then looked over her shoulder. "What's taking so long Leliana!"

"The key didn't work!" Leliana replied, eyes focused on the lock.

"What?" Everil uttered in disbelief. _Did they change the lock?_

Her eyes hardened, and she turned to face the incoming soldiers. "Just focus on getting it unlocked! Don't worry about us!"

Leliana nodded firmly. "Got it!"

Riordan stabbed one in the gut, then pulled the blade out of his body to slice his throat. Zevran kicked another off his feet, then brought his blades down upon his chest, then as he came up, a blade caught his arm. He hissed at the pain and then angrily slashed at his attacker, leaving an angry gash across the man's chest.

"They keep coming!" Riordan shouted, dodging a strike from a hammer before he stabbed the man's face.

"Just take one at a time!" Everil replied as her sword found its way into a man's throat.

The situation was becoming direr by the minute. They were tired and cornered, with little room to move in the small storage room.

The poison was quickly weakening her body, but she fought through it, swinging her sword with all her might and cutting through the armor of one of the knights. One then got too close, slashing at her arm. She grunted and attacked back, slicing his stomach open.

Leliana worked the tools through the small mechanism, slowly undoing the intertwining pieces of iron as a drop of sweat trickled down her brow. Then after a few more agonizing moments it clicked open, the sound almost music to her ears.

"It's open!" She announced as she stood.

Everil promptly pulled on the men, pushing them towards the door. "Go! go! go!"

One of the enemies ran forth, his dagger pointed at Leliana as she made to follow the others. But before he could strike the nun, Everil dashed between them. She blocked one of his daggers, yet her blurred mind didn't see his arm bring around a sword. The blade stabbing her gut drew a cry out of her and she grunted in agony when he shoved it in further, running her through.

"No!" Leliana drew her daggers as the man pulled his blade out of her friend's body, and she angrily shot forth, severing his head. As soon as the man's body hit the ground, she hung Everil's arm around her neck and dragged her out.

As they exited, Zevran and Riordan pushed a nearby cart covered in hay, set aflame by them in an effort to buy them time. It crashed and blocked the door, but they only had enough time to sneak into the shadows of the night before more guards crowded the gardens.

xxxxxxx

"If you continue to pace you will wear a hole into the carpet, boy."

Alistair stopped and turned a frustrated gaze upon the arl. "I can't believe you let her off the hook so easily."

"As I said before… we need her on our side. I do not know why she lied to the lieutenant, but we both knew Anora's alliance to us is one of convenience. Perhaps she sought an opportunity when she saw it."

"I don't trust her," Alistair uttered moodily.

"And it would be foolish to do so. But right now we have little choice but to let her be."

He gave the arl a confused look. "If you don't trust her, then why are you agreeing to the idea of me marrying her?"

Eamon shook his head. "Regardless of her behavior, she speaks the truth… your marriage would be what is best for the country."

He let out an exasperated breath. The moment he and the queen arrived he confronted her before the arl, seeking an explanation. But she claimed herself ill from all the excitement during their escape and then retired to her room, successfully avoiding their questions.

Eamon stood from his desk, walking around it as he spoke. "I must go meet with one of the lords at his estate. I'm hoping to gather his support. I will return by morning. Mind yourself in my absence, Alistair."

"Of course…" He quietly replied, watching the arl leave the room. He then flopped down on a chair by the fireplace, releasing another sigh of frustration. "Even now he treats me as if I were a child."

Another hour passed by as he stared at the flickering flames, his mind wandering back to the brunette who still owned his heart. An indescribable feeling settled upon him, one that told him something bad may have happened. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake it off.

"I'm sure she can handle things without me…" He told himself, his heart constricting painfully.

The door then opened, drawing his attention away from his troubling thoughts to Morrigan as she stepped into the room.

She eyed him, her amber eyes glimmering with the glare of the flames as she smiled. "So you seek to become the King of Ferelden now. Are you sure that brainless head of yours can handle such responsibility?"

He shot her an annoyed look. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not in the mood for your bitchy comments right now."

"I take it they have yet to return?" She asked with a raised brow, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yes..." He replied, resting his chin on his hand as he stared at the flames. "I don't like this. They're taking a while..."

Running footsteps down the hall made them look towards the doorway as a guard rushed into the room, an alarmed look on his face.

"Ser Alistair!" He called, panting for breath.

Alistair pushed himself up to his feet, giving the man a troubled look. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

He swallowed. "Y-your friends! They're here! A-and one of them is badly wounded!"

Alistair's eye widened, the feeling of dread increasing ten-fold. "Take me to them!"

"Right away, Ser!" The guard then whirled around as both Alistair and Morrigan followed him out of the room.

A heavy weight pressed against his chest as they crossed the hallway, hurriedly following the guard until they reached the front doors, bursting them open to step outside. And the sight that greeted them made both he and Morrigan pause in astonishment.

Everil leaned heavily against Zevran, barely able to stand on her own two feet. Her hand weakly pressed a piece of cloth to her stomach, blood dripping to the ground with every step.

Alistair's shock quickly wore off as he rushed toward them, alarm etched upon his features as he reached for her. "What happened!"

"We were overwhelmed..." Zevran told him as he allowed the other man to hoist the injured woman into his arms.

Everil let out a weak whimper at the sudden movement, her head rolling back as her arms went limp and her consciousness faded.

Without asking further questions, Alistair hurried inside with her, the others following closely as they headed for the nearest room.

Alistair then carefully laid her down on the before shouting to the nearest person. "Get Wynne! Hurry!"

"On it!" Zevran replied as he rushed out of the room and down the hall.

As he worked on her armor, his eyes went over her face and his heart churned at the ghostly color of her once rosy cheeks.

Morrigan approached the other side of the bed, reaching down to help with the buckles. As she did her eyes narrowed at his hands, noticing how his fingers shook as he struggled with a single strap.

"Let me do it," She uttered.

"No," He curtly replied.

She scowled and walked around the bed to forcefully grab him by the arm. "I said move aside!"

"No way!" He snapped, roughly pulling his arm out of her grip.

"You are in no shape to help! If you don't get out of our way, she will die!" She insisted angrily.

He froze at her words, the fear of losing her sending him into a stupor.

With a low, frustrated growl, Morrigan shoved him towards the door and out of the room while Wynne rushed in towards the Warden.

"Now stay out until we call for you!" The witch bit out and then slammed the door behind him, leaving him and the others out in the hall.

Alistair hopelessly looked down at his quivering hands, stained red with her blood. He then gazed at his clothes, his white tunic and vest also soaked. The sight suddenly made him feel sick, desperation building up to the point where his mind couldn't think straight.

"Alistair…"

He turned lost eyes to Leliana, absently reacting to her voice.

She spoke again. "I… I think this was a trap."

"A trap...?" He numbly echoed, his eyes focusing on her. "What are you…?"

"The key they gave us…" Leliana muttered, anger hardening her usually kind eyes. "It didn't work. That's why the soldiers were able to corner us. They changed the lock and gave us the wrong key. It was a trap."

His eyes grew wide as her words sunk in, his mind slowly putting the pieces together.

First, Erlina's insistence in him going with them.

Second, the queen's surprised look upon finding out the change in plans.

And third, Anora's lie to Cauthrien.

Suddenly he could only see red and his nostrils flared in anger as he whirled around to stalk through the hall, ignoring Leliana's worried calls as she followed after him.

xxxxxxx

Anora allowed her maid to brush her long, golden locks as she sat upon a chair, preparing for bed. Then her door burst open, drawing a surprised cry out of both women as she instinctively rose to her feet.

And upon seeing who it was, she glared at him, her cheeks turning red as she scrambled to cover her nightgown in an effort to maintain her modesty.

"What's the meaning of this!" She demanded.

"I knew we couldn't trust you," He hissed as he swiftly closed the distance, carelessly grabbing her by the arm.

"Your Majesty!" Erlina reached for her knife, but a dagger to her throat made her halt halfway.

"Don't move," Leliana commanded, having slithered quietly behind the elf.

Anora winced and dangerously narrowed her eyes at him as his fingers dug into her skin. "Unhand me, Alistair."

"You betrayed us just like your father did," He uttered through gritted teeth, making her shrink back under his sharp stare. "You tricked us into going in to rescue you. And because of you Everil was injured."

"The Grey Warden?" Erlina whispered nervously.

Anora defiantly lifted her chin. "Such ridiculous accusations! I would never-!"

"Don't lie to me!" A loud boom made her jump on her feet when he punched the bookcase beside her, making her heart beat widely in alarm as he yelled angrily at her. "You used the Warden as bait and gave us a false key! Hoping we would be overwhelmed by the guards! That's why your maid insisted I go with Everil! You wanted to have me killed so you could keep the throne!"

Anora's eyes widened, surprised at how unexpectedly shrewd he was. She swallowed, trying to gather her thoughts under his heated glare. "I need you and your Warden friend to defeat both my father and the Blight. What would I gain from killing you?" She then smiled, appearing calm despite the situation. "Besides, our wedding has already been decided by Arl Eamon. All it would take is his vote once the rest of the nobility chooses you as king. Betraying you would only hurt my chances at regaining the power my father took from me."

She gasped when he roughly pulled her to him, their noses nearly touching as she gazed into his hazel brown eyes, fear creeping up her chest at the hatred in their depths.

"Nice try, but I don't believe you," He said, his tone chillingly calm. "So if we truly are to be wed you better pray to the Maker Everil survives… because if she dies, I swear I'll make you regret every moment of your life with me."

With those last words, Alistair released her and made for the door, following Leliana out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

Anora placed a hand to her heaving chest, her heart beating uncontrollably. She was used to men groveling at her feet, pleasing her every whim. But this one dared stand up to her, with complete disregard towards her position and her charms, while actually making her feel weak and afraid in the process. No other man had ever made her feel that way.

And to her surprise, she found it rather thrilling.

"Are you all right, your Majesty?" Erlina gently placed her hand on her shoulder, glaring at the door. "I can't believe he figured it out."

She nodded absently. "He may hold a striking resemblance to his brother, but he is definitely not Cailan. He is no fool."

She released a quivering breath as she sat upon her chair, handing the brush to the maid as she spoke. "I had originally suggested marrying him to keep Eamon and the other nobles from suspecting me, but now…" The corners of her lips went up into an arrogant smile. "Hmph… I admit I am beginning to like the idea."

The elf gave her an odd look as she brushed her hair, slightly troubled by her queen's strange words.

xxxxxxx

He was leaning forward with heavy shoulders, his elbows on his knees and hands clasped against his forehead. The others rested against the walls or sat on the floor, while Leliana quietly prayed, her soft voice soothing to their ears. It was quiet in the hall as all servants slept, something he barely managed at odd intervals in his chair.

Aside from a half-hearted greeting, he had yet to actually speak with Riordan. But the man didn't seem to mind the treatment, his own eyes cast upon the floor.

It was near sunrise by the time the door opened, causing everyone to snap their heads expectantly in its direction as Wynne wobbled out, sweat soaking her face. Alistair stood immediately, stepping towards her just in time to help support her weakened body.

"How is she?" He asked, leading her toward his chair and helping her sit as he took a knee before her,

Wynne pressed her lips together in a grim look, avoiding his gaze as she stared down in silence.

"Wynne… tell me! Please!" He asked again, his voice louder than he intended.

"I… I cannot help her. She lost too much blood… and the poison in her body won't allow me to completely mend her wounds," She said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I… I'm sorry."

His heart seemed to stop then, and he barely registered the gentle pat he gave the old woman's shoulder as he rose. He slowly turned around, his feet heavy as he neared the door and entered the room, the others gathering around the barely conscious mage.

Alistair numbly approached the bed to stand beside it, vaguely aware of Morrigan's presence. Magnus whined on the floor next to him, lying down with the same slump on his shoulders.

His saddened eyes slowly traced her features as she lay motionless with her hands at her sides, a thin white cotton robe covering her once bloodied body. Her chocolate locks showered her pillow, making sharp contrast with her pale skin, while her long lashes remained closed. And the uneven rise and fall of her chest, as well as the faint sound of her breath, were the only sign of life.

He reached out to tenderly caress her cold cheek with the back of his hand, his heart wrenching in agony. She was the strongest person he knew, and yet there she lay: Weak and vulnerable, like a porcelain doll on the verge of breaking.

"This can't be happening..." He breathed, his voice breaking as he gently took her chilled hand. "Please tell me this is another nightmare…"

Alistair waited, hoping she would tell him everything would be all right, with that beautiful smile of hers. But her now purple lips remained sealed, denying him her gentle voice.

"Please wake up, Everil…" He begged, falling to his knees.

But there was no answer.

He reached out, his hand shaking her shoulder. "Please… please wake up!"

"That's enough."

He looked up at the witch as a tear slid down his cheek, his gaze following her as she made her way towards the door. He heard her tell the others to stay outside before closing it once more, leaving them alone with her. He then looked back at his beloved, too weak to argue with the ill-tempered mage as he pressed the back of her hand against the side of his face.

Meanwhile Morrigan's steps disturbed the silence as she returned to the other side of the bed, adjusting the herbs she had laid over the table next to it.

He never felt such helplessness in his life, desperation causing his thoughts to wander aimlessly in his mind.

"Morrigan…"

She didn't answer, instead reaching down to adjust the Warden's covers in an attempt to keep her warm.

"Save her…" He murmured.

Morrigan then paused, her hands still holding the edge of the sheets.

"Please…"

"You heard the hag. Conventional magic did not do and neither did my herbs." She replied quietly.

"Then use blood magic…"

Her catlike eyes snapped towards him at his uncharacteristic request, her lips parted in shock. And for a moment she thought she imagined it, but the conviction in his eyes told her otherwise.

She felt a subtle smirk make its way onto her purple lips. "You would throw away your principles for her sake?"

"Yes..." He replied without hesitation, his eyes trailing down to Everil's still form. "I… I would do anything for her."

Morrigan's cold eyes slightly softened, her smirk fading. She had never see him this decisive in their time traveling together, and although she would never admit it, she was impressed by the change.

"Very well," She uttered, reaching into her pocket to draw out a small knife before pressing the sharp edge to her palm. "But know this; I am doing this for her, not for you."

He nodded bitterly and watched as she slit her palm all the way down to her wrist, her blood glowing with blinding light.

xxxxxxx

A ray of light suddenly cut through the darkness, showering her with its warmth. It coursed through her body, slowly easing the pain that once stabbed at her muscles. It then tugged at her consciousness, probing her brain as if taking her hand to help her out of the abyss. She slowly regained sensation in her fingertips, and as she gradually made the transition back into the world of the living she became aware of someone holding her hand.

Everil drew in a soft breath that burned her lungs, then willed herself to crack open her eyes. The light slowly faded, revealing a dark room.

"Everil?"

She swallowed through her dry throat, then weakly turned her head to see his tear streaked face and expectant eyes.

"Hey…" She replied hoarsely.

"Thank the Maker!" He choked out and repeatedly pressed his lips to the back of her hand, holding on to her arm as if she were to disappear if he let go. He wanted to hold her, to wrap his arms around her, but he didn't want to accidentally hurt her.

She was then aware of another weight pressing at the other side of her bed, so she turned her attention towards Morrigan, who lay motionless on her knees, her head on the mattress. Everil slowly sat up while Alistair helped her, his hand upon her back. Meanwhile Magnus put his paws on the bed, barking excitedly.

"Morrigan?" She softly called, her voice still broken as she lightly shook the woman's shoulder.

"She's exhausted."

Her eyes switched to him once more, the question reflected upon her concerned features.

"She used everything she had to save you," He quietly added, looking across the bed at the witch, a grateful smile lightly tugging at his lips.

"What was that light?" A soft voice asked as the door opened and Leliana poked her head in, her eyes puffy from crying. Upon seeing her sitting up, a look of disbelief dawned upon her. She opened the door all the way and ran to the foot of her bed, her eyes welling up with tears.

"Maker! You're alive! I-I thought for sure you would…" She drew in a shaky breath. "Oh Evy, you scared me! Scared all of us!"

"I'll say…" Oghren then walked in after her, glaring at the Warden while holding his usual liquor flask in his hand. "You run off without me to play Hero Saves the Queen and come back all cut up and dying. What the sodding stone were you thinking?"

Everil couldn't help but smile weakly at their concern.

The rest of her party made its way in then, relieved smiled upon their faces. She had then ordered for Sten and Leliana to help Morrigan to her room. And while the qunari carried the mage out with Leliana, a concerned Arl Eamon made his way in, glancing up at them as they passed him by.

"It looks like something terrible happened in my absence…" He said, approaching the bed.

"Arl Eamon," Alistair greeted him, giving the arl a tired look.

With a frown, the arl's eyes then turned to them. "Are you all right, Lady Everil?"

She followed Eamon's line of vision to their clasped hands. Her heart ached as she gently pulled her hand out from Alistair's hold, receiving a hurt look she tried her best to ignore.

Swallowing the knot in her throat, she tried to keep her tired body upright, her voice barely audible. "I could be better… but thank you for asking, my lord."

Eamon shook his head. "Fortunately you were all able to save the queen… I can hardly believe Loghain would do such a thing to his own daughter. Did you find anything else we could use against him?"

"I…" Her mind was still in a haze, and she struggled to remember all that occurred mere hours ago. Her hand went up to her head, a fainting spell making her lean forward.

Alistair placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her before turning a stern look towards him. "My lord, she's weak and tired. We can talk about this later."

He nodded. "We are awaiting the arrival of the remaining nobles in the northern parts of Ferelden before the Landsmeet takes place. We will need you to bring forth whatever it was you found then. In the meantime, use this opportunity to rest. You have earned it."

Eamon then turned around, heading for the door. "Alistair, come join me in my study. We must prepare you for what is to come."

Alistair's hands closed into fists. "But-"

"Go Alistair..."

He turned to face her, a frustrated look on his face. But she wasn't looking back at him, her eyes avoiding him.

"Everil, you nearly died… I can't just—"

"I said go!" She snapped hoarsely, her hands gripping her blankets.

A hurt look crossed his features, anger rising in his chest. "Fine…"

She looked up as he walked out the door, the others sending strange looks towards her.

"Come now… we should let her rest," Wynne said tiredly, ushering the rest of their party out of the room.

After everyone was gone, Wynne turned around, walking up to her worriedly. She still couldn't believe the girl was sitting up, back amongst the living. She knew she had felt the pull of magic a moment ago, and she knew Morrigan had been the one to save her life, but she found herself afraid to ask the witch how.

Seeing the Warden at the verge of death had made them all gather around her. She was the glue that held them together, the beacon that led them through the toughest of battles, and the one would continue to lead them during the next. Yet she could tell cutting off her relationship with the man she loved was straining her feelings. And by what she heard from Leliana earlier, she had also faced the man who destroyed her life.

She was strong, but she was still human. Any human could easily break under pressure. She gently placed her hand on her shoulder, while Everil let out a sigh.

"I don't know what happened at the estate…" The old mage told her softly, her motherly tone soothing. "But know that if you need to talk, you have me."

Everil lightly placed her hand upon hers. "Thank you, Wynne."

"Of course. Now lie down… get some sleep, child."

Everil allowed her to adjust her pillow, then did as she was told, her body protesting with every move. Her hound hopped upon the foot of the bed, making himself comfortable as they watched Wynne walk out of the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

She had brought an end to Howe at last, but she was too exhausted to tell how she felt, her heart ravaged by unsettling waves emotions. All she wanted was to sleep and forget, if only for a few hours. She didn't want to face she was going to lose the man she loved. She didn't want to face she would be alone again thereafter.

Yes. Sleep is all she needed.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter XXI

Arl Eamon's lecture was nothing but background noise to him, his distracted mind constantly drifting back to her. He made a feeble attempt to figure out whether to feel sadness, anger or spite towards the only woman he ever loved. But although he knew why she was distancing herself from him, logic did nothing to help make him feel better.

An entire day had passed since they last spoke. He imagined she was likely awake by now. He wanted to know what happened, if she ran into Howe and managed to avenge her family or if he somehow managed to avoid her wrath. It was difficult to tell through her tired eyes, having been near death mere moments prior.

If only he could escape the arl and seek answers from her.

But would she even want to talk to him?

Alistair leaned back is his chair and placed his cheek on his hand with a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumped as his thoughts continued to wander.

"I can tell how entertained you are by all this, boy," Eamon said sarcastically from behind his desk, giving him a mildly annoyed look.

Alistair looked away from him, turning his gaze towards the wall. "Sorry."

"The Landsmeet will convene tomorrow. It is necessary for you to speak well before the nobles. You must remember proper etiquette, as well as proper protocol. Any misstep could prove fatal."

"Don't worry so much. It's not like they'll behead me," Alistair said with weak wave of his hand.

"They won't, but if Loghain is victorious, he surely will." Eamon stood and stepped around his desk, walking towards the fireplace. "I would hate to see that happen, Alistair."

"It won't happen…" He uttered, his gaze shifting to the floor. "Everil will be there, so I'm sure we'll make it through. She's great with words."

"That is to be expected. The Couslands were a respected family. What Howe did was unforgivable. Had Cailan not perished, he would have no doubt hung the snake for his transgression," Eamon uttered, poking at the coals before glancing over his shoulder. "Incidentally… I noticed you and Lady Everil seem close. Have you known her long?"

"Since Ostagar…" Alistair quietly replied. "And I couldn't have made it this far without her."

The arl didn't miss the pain in Alistair's voice when he said those words, and he understood then why he was so reluctant to wed the queen. He clasped his hands behind his back, regarding him with knowing eyes. "I see…"

Alistair then rose to his feet. "May I go now? I would like to check on her."

Eamon paused for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Make sure to rest well tonight. I will see you early morn. We will be going to the palace then."

"Of course…" He uttered as he made for the door.

xxxxxxx

Everil gazed out the window from her bed, leaning back against the headboard as she solemnly admired the twinkling stars. The flame from her fireplace warmed the room, shielding her from the cold breeze flowing through the open window while its light cast dancing shadows against the walls. She had slept the day away despite the occasional visits from her friends. And each time she would put on smiles and said she needed more sleep, yet it was all an excuse to be left alone to her thoughts.

She had yet to shed a tear, stubbornly keeping herself from caving into sorrow and from showing those around her how she truly felt. From the very beginning, their impossible task demanded nothing but strength and determination from her, and so she stood tall for her companions, even in the worst of situations. For no one ever wished to see his or her leader break like shattered glass, especially when there was so much weight on their shoulders.

At the same time, however, she wanted to be just a woman. A human who could finally mourn those she lost in the past, and the man she was about to lose to another woman in the near future. Her mind quickly went numb as the troubling thoughts continued to circle her brain, her chest compressed so tight it physically hurt. Even if she were to regain her title or her lands, Alistair couldn't risk pushing away the queen, not if he wished to keep her support and obtain the crown.

A whine made her crane her head down, her tired eyes landing upon her dog's worried stare.

She weakly reached down to scratch his ear. "I'm sorry, boy… I know you want me to smile."

He whined.

"I just need a little more time… Can you stay with me in the meanwhile?" She uttered, tilting her head at him.

He let out a soft bark, nuzzling her palm.

"Thank you…" She whispered and gently petted his head. "I am fortunate to have such a loving friend, Magnus."

A knock on the door then broke the relative silence, her head lazily turning towards it. The mabari's ears twitched, sniffing the air as he gazed towards the sound. The door then opened, and her heart wrenched upon seeing who it was.

"Hey…" Alistair greeted quietly, his troubled eyes meeting hers from across the room.

She felt herself swallow, trying to push down the knot forming in her throat. "Hi…"

He cautiously stepped in, gently closing the door behind him. "How are you feeling?"

"Wynne came by to help me bathe and treat my wounds. They're completely healed now," She replied, her gaze shifting down to her hands as she wrapped her delicate fingers around her sheets. "I'm all right now."

Alistair walked up to the side of the bed, causing her to stiffen. "Are you… sure?"

"Yes… I'm fine. You need not worry about me any longer," She said shakily, his proximity tugging at the sadness in her chest.

"Don't..." He murmured, a hurt look upon his eyes. "I almost lost you… And you know how that feels."

His words reminded her of the battle against Flemeth, his broken form flashing before her eyes, causing her grip on the sheets to tighten.

"You should go..." She uttered, still avoiding his eyes.

Her cold tone pierced his heart as a sad look crossed his features. Just days ago they slept in each other's arms, basking in the comfort their warm embrace brought. When had it all changed?

"Why are you doing this?" He asked weakly, his voice nearly a whisper.

Her brows came down into a frustrated look. "I already told you… It's over."

"So you expect me to just stop loving you?" He retorted, his voice tinted with exasperation. "To forget about you and move on to a life I didn't even want? With a woman I don't love? I can't do that!"

 _Why…?_ The words crossed her mind, her frustration growing.

"You've already given up enough for Ferelden!" He said with pain in his voice, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Don't push me away like this!"

 _Why are you making this so difficult...?_ She wanted to get over him, to stop hurting and let him go.

"You're the only one I—"

"Stop!" She bit out in a high-pitched voice, her angry eyes tuning towards him. "I don't want to talk anymore! I don't want to be with you anymore! Please, just leave me alone!"

Her eyes grew wide as the words left her lips, the anguished look in his eyes piercing her chest like a knife. And just like that, she suddenly felt as if she were the most terrible person in Thedas.

"Uh... All right... whatever makes you happy..." He whispered, the sadness in him turning into anger as he slowly pulled his hand away.

She watched as he turned his back to her, heading for the door.

 _Wait ..._ She thought as regret clutched at her heart.

Everil watched in silent desperation as his back grew more distant, and the farther he went, the lonelier she felt. She had no family, no one to love her like he did.

Because she failed them all that night.

If only she had been stronger. If only she had realized Howe's betrayal before it was too late.

If only she could speak up and ask him to stay.

 _Please wait…_

She needed his arms, his love and his compassion. She needed him.

As the door began to close she weakly swung her legs over edge of the bed, stumbling as she tried to run after him. Her legs then buckled from underneath her, too weak still to carry her weight as she fell to her knees, hitting the floor just as the door clicked to a close.

"Don't go…" She whimpered, her pleading eyes upon the door as her shoulders shook. She couldn't withstand the pressure any longer, her chest so tight she felt as if she were dying. Tears flowed freely down her face, dripping down to her gown as she let out a miserable sob.

xxxxxxx

Alistair let out a quivering sigh, taking a few steps down the hall. Then a sudden tug made him stop in his tracks, drawing his attention down as he sent a puzzled look to the hound pulling on his sleeve.

Magnus whined at him, his jaw firmly holding on to the fabric.

"What is it…?" Alistair muttered awkwardly.

He whined again.

"You heard what she said… I can't be with her anymore." He went down to a knee, meeting the hound's gaze as he gently petted his hand.

He barked and then took a step back, turning to the door.

"What are you—"

Shock dawned upon him, suddenly realizing something was wrong. What about her feelings? Does she feel just as miserable as he does? And he was so focused on himself, he didn't even ask about Howe. He was so overwhelmed by his own feelings, that he almost missed the silent plea for help as she told him to leave. He had stormed out of the room, stranding her on her own when she could have possibly been feeling more alone than ever before.

Alistair stood and hurried towards her room, not caring whether or not she would cast him out once more.

Magnus followed him and sat by the door as the human rushed in, leaving the hound to stand guard outside.

When Alistair's eyes landed upon her, he immediately regretted leaving her. She knelt upon the cold floor, her eyes gazing up at him in surprise as tears poured from her eyes.

"A... Alistair…" She whimpered helplessly, her face suddenly filled with grief.

In an instant his arms were around her, holding her tightly against his chest as her body shook with each fit of uncontrollable sobs. Her hands grabbed onto his tunic as if he were her lifeline, her tears seeping into the cloth.

"I killed him…" She choked out, her words muffled by his chest. "I killed Howe… but it still hurts…!"

"I know…" He murmured into her hair, gently running his hand up and down her shaking back. He had never seen her cry in such a way. She was always the rock that carried everything upon it, and yet she never complained or showed weakness before any of them. Instead holding it all in on her own.

But having finally avenged her family was likely the release she needed.

Her sobs soon calmed as she drew in soft breaths, her grip on him loosening just a little as she softly spoke, guilt painting her voice. "I should have stayed behind that night… but like a coward, I ran. I failed them all..."

He lightly pulled her back, carefully tilting her chin up to gaze upon her tearful blue eyes. "You know that's not true."

"But…"

"There was nothing any of us could have done. Your parents also knew there was no other way. If you stayed you would have died and Howe would have remained unpunished for what he did." He tenderly wiped away her tears with his thumb, as more of them slid down her flushed cheeks. "And I also… wouldn't have known the privilege of falling in love with you."

Everil gazed up into his loving eyes, the sight of them weakening her resolve and completely disarming her defenses. She never felt so vulnerable in her life, so bare. She found herself wishing for nothing more than to be in his arms a while longer, to feel his touch and his lips upon her, to drown her sorrows by losing herself in him.

"Alistair..." She breathed as he nuzzled her forehead, her quiet voice filled with the longing she felt. "Lay with me tonight…"

He gazed down at her, her pleading words and begging eyes stirring something primal within him. It filled him with the intense desire to hold her and soothe away her pain, making it difficult to keep his own restraints in check.

Alistair released a soft breath as he slowly leaned closer, their lips brushing in a soft kiss as a tear rolled down her cheek. Then he kissed her again, tenderly suckling on her quivering bottom lip as she quietly whimpered.

She weakly wrapped her arms around his neck, gently pulling him down for a passionate, yet bittersweet kiss. And as their tongues slowly danced he slid an arm behind her back and the other under her legs to delicately hoist her into his arms.

He broke the kiss for a brief moment as he carried her to the bed, then laid her down upon it as he climbed in and between her legs, his lips claiming hers once more. He leaned on one arm to support his weight, trying not to hurt her weakened body as he lay upon her, their tongues locked in a tango as his pulse quickened.

It had only been days since the last kiss they shared, yet it felt as if it were a decade of waiting. He had missed the taste of her lips, the warmth of her body under his, the softness of her fingertips as they stroked his cheek. He sighed as their kiss grew more passionate, his hand coming up to gently stroke her temple with his thumb as he absently grinded his hips against hers.

The sensation of his aroused manhood pressing against her parts drew a feeble moan out of her, heat quickly spreading up between her legs. She shivered as his hand slowly slid under her gown, his fingers like feathers against her soft skin as they slowly made their way up her leg and thigh.

Her heart raced as she began to undo the buckles on his vest, her fingers gradually working off the straps one by one. He let out a heavy breath through his nose, his lips still upon hers, enjoying the sweet taste of her mouth as he reached down to help her undo his belt. After taking his belt off, he withdrew from her lips and leaned up, gazing down at her longing eyes before taking off his vest and pulling his tunic over his head. As he did, her delicate fingers traced his abs, causing him to shudder under her touch. He then tossed his shirt aside before his lips descended upon her neck, his fingers tugging at the lace upon her robe.

Warmth spread through her body as she felt his kisses slowly make their way down her chest, then between her breasts as she panted for breath. He gently spread the front of her gown open, exposing her breasts as the cool air flowing from the window graced her hardened nipples. Then his mouth enveloped one of them as she groaned, her back arching as his hot tongue stroked the sensitive bud, causing tingling ripples. She moaned as he sucked a little harder, his hand finding its way to her undergarments, his fingers untying the knots holding the cloth in place.

"Alistair…" Everil whispered, her voice laced with desire as she felt her body crave his.

He removed the clothing from her hips and tossed it to the floor, before kicking his boots off and ridding himself of his trousers. He then gazed down at her, his hands tenderly moving up her thighs as he slid up her skirts, exposing her legs and hips.

She shuddered under his gaze, her eyes trailing down to his erect member, seeing it pulse in anticipation as he positioned himself between her legs once more.

Her heart twisted wistfully as his lips softly met hers, his swelled member pressing against her moist opening before slowly penetrating her, the sensation of his length sliding in making her moan.

Heartache painfully intertwined with her love for him, causing her eyes to burn with unshed tears as they became one for what was to be the last time. She swallowed down the miserable feeling, trying to focus instead on him as he began to move with careful, loving thrusts, the strokes against her aching loins earning him a weak whimper.

He moaned as he kissed her jaw, enjoying the feeling of her hot insides pressing along his manhood. Gentle waves of pleasure traveled down his shaft each time he slid in and out of her, urging him to continue as her whimpers filled his ears.

Everil bit her lip and ran her fingers up his back, touching every muscle as they tensed with each deliberate movement of his body. And each time their hips met was bliss, as the gradual friction dragged on the pleasurable sensations flowing through her.

Aching for more, she carefully rolled them over and leaned up, her legs straddling him as she moved. She lifted her hips, then lowered them, her womanhood slowly sliding up and down his length as he moaned her name. She took hold of her clothes and slipped them up and over her head as the flames of the fireplace illuminated her naked body.

She drew in a breath when his fingers gently traced her stomach, caressing the rose-colored mark the enemy's weapon left upon her fair skin. Her eyes then met his before he sat up and sought her lips, his arms gingerly wrapping around her waist while she continued to slowly ride his manhood.

Her hands went over his broad shoulders, then her arms around his neck. His lips strayed to her jaw and to her throat as she panted for breath. She rolled her head back to grant him better access, his kisses leaving hot trails along her flushed skin. His hand came up to cup her breast, massaging and kneading as he ran his tongue along her neck.

Their quiet moans filled the room as the sensations gradually intensified each time she slid up and down, her moist loins tightening around him as she felt herself wanting more of it.

With a throaty groan, Alistair gently took hold of her waist and turned them over, carefully laying her upon her back once more. He then placed a gentle kiss to her lips and began to thrust into her a little faster, drawing a whimper out of her each time he hit her top.

He caressed her thigh as he continued to make love to her, every kiss and movement carrying the soothing tenderness she longed for. His lips brushed against her flushed cheeks, her fingers lacing through his hair as each time their hips met the jolts of pleasure grew stronger, pushing her closer and closer to her climax.

"Maker…" She choked out breathlessly, the sensations intensifying until she couldn't hold on any longer. She felt him hit her core one, two, three more times, and then she came crashing down with a weak cry, her insides pulsing and constricting around him, the increased pressure pulling him along with her.

He moaned loudly as he came, his throbbing member filling her womb with his warm seed as he continued to thrust into her, her womanhood greedily taking every drop as she whimpered with each intense wave of pleasure crashing over her.

He tenderly kissed her lips as he slowed to a stop, their climax slowly ebbing away as he softly traced the curve of her hip with his fingers.

She sighed tiredly as she returned his loving kisses, silently wishing that their time together had lasted forever.

xxxxxxx

Everil's eyes slowly opened when she felt something wet against her cheek, letting out a sleepy groan.

"Magnus..." She uttered as she gently scratched his ears.

He barked once in response.

She then groggily rolled over and reached towards the other side of the bed, her heart dropping upon finding it empty. With a dejected sigh she slowly sat up, bringing her sheets up to cover her bare chest as the cool breeze from the window touched her skin. She turned her head to her mabari, who nuzzled her arm with worried eyes.

"Don't worry, boy. I'm feeling better now," She said with a small smile.

A knock on the door then reached her ears, and she half expected it to be Alistair, but when it cracked open, Leliana's head poked through it. "Evy?"

Everil smiled, trying to hide her disappointment. "Hi Leliana. You may come in."

With a smile of her own, Leliana opened the door, carrying a bundle in her arms as she stepped in while Morrigan followed behind her.

"You seem to be feeling much better. You no longer look like one of the dead," The witch said with a small smirk, carrying a tray.

"I know you're the one who saved me," Everil said with a grateful nod of her head. "Thank you, Morrigan. I owe you one."

"Indeed, you do," She replied, placing the tray on her lap. "Here. I prepared this for you."

"What is it?" Everil uttered as she looked down at it with a frown, her nose lightly curling at the smell. The concoction had the appearance of porridge, only with an odd purple color and strange herbs mixed in it.

"You need not know. Just be silent and eat. It will help you regain your strength," Morrigan replied, folding her arms over her chest.

"Uhm… all right." She replied, picking up the spoon. She cautiously took a bite, the sour taste causing her to grimace in disgust.

Morrigan gave her a teasing grin. "Oh 'tis not so bad."

Meanwhile Leliana placed the bundle on the chair nearby, speaking softly as she untied the string around the paper used to wrap it. "We had your armor cleaned and repaired. You can get dressed when ready," She told her, turning to approach the bed. "By the way, I saw Alistair walk out of the room earlier. Are things… back to normal between the two of you?"

"Where is he?" Everil asked quietly, avoiding the question.

"He and Arl Eamon left the estate, ahead of us and the queen," Leliana replied with a troubled frown. "They said they had something to do and to meet them in the palace when you're ready."

Morrigan scoffed with a scowl. "He sleeps with you, then sets out to marry another. How very considerate of him."

Not wanting to discuss the matter, Everil stared down at the bowl, absently chewing on the odd tasting contents.

xxxxxx

When Everil and her party arrived to the palace, they were led towards the chamber where the Landsmeet was to take place. She opened the large double doors, interrupting the bickering nobles within as she stepped inside with her head held high. They all gazed down from the balcony above, some with surprised looks on their faces upon recognizing who she was.

"Is that Bryce's youngest?" A woman whispered to another. "Maker, I thought she was dead."

"So it's true she killed Howe," The other replied.

The same woman scowled. "I say the bastard deserved it…"

Arl Eamon and Alistair stood ahead, turning to them as they approached.

Her eyes met his, noticing the concern within them as his hands closed into fists at his sides. She gave him a small smile despite the pain in her heart, then shifted her attention to the arl as he politely spoke.

"I'm pleased to see you are well again, Lady Everil."

"Thanks, my lord," She replied with a tip of her head.

"It appears both criminals are in the room now."

They all looked towards Loghain as he walked in from the opposite side of the chamber. His cold eyes moved from Alistair, to her and then to Eamon as he stopped mere steps from them, crossing his arms. "You're a fool if you think you can place a puppet on the throne, Eamon. I will never allow it."

Alistair's eyes narrowed.

"Alistair is Maric's son. As the Prince, he has the right to the throne by blood," Eamon repeated to him calmly, loud enough for all in the room to hear.

"Maric's blood may course through his veins, but the boy lacks the knowledge and experience required to rule a country," Loghain replied as he looked up at the nobles. "This country requires a knowledgeable ruler, now more than ever. I can lead you to victory, as I did alongside Maric when we cast the Orlesians out of our lands thirty years ago."

"Your experience was never questioned, Teyrn Loghain. Your motivations however…" One of the nobles uttered uncomfortably.

"You left my nephew to die in Ostagar," Eamon said, his voice carrying a hint of anger as he cast his piercing gaze upon him. "You betrayed his trust and took your men out of the battlefield when you could have at least saved his life."

"Cailan's blind faith in legends was what caused his demise. The Grey Wardens filled his head with fantasies and lured him towards his doom. If anyone should be blamed and executed for his death, it should be the two who stand before you," Loghain retorted, gesturing towards Everil and Alistair. He then glared heatedly at the arl. "Eamon, your old age is affecting your reason. Perhaps you should have stayed in Redcliffe and left Ferelden's problems to me."

"Is that why you tried to kill him? To keep him out of the way."

They all turned to Everil, whose fierce gaze was upon him. She continued. "You sent a desperate malefecar to poison Arl Eamon, nearly killing him and his entire family in the process. And not only that, but you had the templar hunting him imprisoned in order to keep him from ruining your plans."

Loghain's eyes narrowed. "You have no proof of that, Warden."

"I do, actually." Everil produced the ring from her pocket, lifting it for all to see.

Alftanna gasped from above, leaning over the railing. "That… That's my brother's signet ring!"

"Yes it is," Everil said and then tossed the piece of jewelry up at her.

She caught it, her hands shaking as she gazed down at the familiar symbol etched upon the specially crafted ring. "I… I had this made for him before he left to join the templars."

"I recognized your family's coat of arms and knew one of you would be here today," Everil told her from below. "Your brother died after having been deprived of lyrium for too long. He was delirious when he asked me to give that to you. I am sorry you had to find out this way."

"Thank you… Lady Everil." She said, her hands closing around the pendant before she cast an enraged look upon Loghain. "You bastard!"

"Teyrn Loghain." Denerim's Revered Mother regarded him with outraged eyes, her hand gripping the railing. "You interfered with a templar's sacred duties! The Chantry will not forgive such insolent transgression against the Maker!"

"If I must pay for anything I have done, then I will do so when I face the Maker himself!" Loghain said with a dignified tilt in his chin. "All I have done thus far was to secure Ferelden's independence! To protect us from those who seek to invade our nation and enslave our people!" He then turned to Everil. "So tell us, Warden! How much are they paying you to do this! How much is Fereldan honor worth these days!"

Everil scowled. "Orlais is not the threat here! The Blight is!"

"The great many refugees in my lands can attest to that," Alftanna said with a cold look to Loghain.

"And you're suddenly against slavery? Whatever happened to the elves you sold, Loghain?" Everil asked him, crossing her arms. "Is it only right when you are the one enslaving others?"

Outraged whispers were heard in the room while Arl Eamon and Alistair simply watched her, listening to her as she took control of the Landsmeet.

"I will not deny that. The elves would have no way of surviving once the Blight reached Denerim. I was attempting to save their lives," Loghain uttered, trying to explain as the nobles scrutinized his every word.

"Selling them into slavery… you might as well sentence them to death yourself. Unforgivable!" A man said from above, giving him a disapproving look.

"This is why I stand here now and not you," Loghain shot back, glaring up at him. "None of you have what it takes to make the difficult decisions! Instead, you would point the blame and complain while others do the dirty work for you! And unlike any of you, I would do anything for this country!" He gazed angrily around the room. "Who was it that fought for you when the orlesians trampled your fields and raped your wives! Who freed this nation as the blood and sweat of my soldiers soaked the battlefield! None of you have the right to judge me! I gave up more for this nation than any of you ever would!"

Everil scoffed. "You speak of loyalty to Ferelden and yet you held your own daughter captive."

Gasps filled the room, followed by words of concern.

"The queen?""

"He would do such a thing to our queen?"

Loghain's hands closed into fists. "You dare spew such lies!"

"They are not lies."

They turned their attention towards the back of the chamber as Anora stepped inside, a frigid look upon her eyes.

Her father was stunned into silence, color draining from his face as he watched her descend the steps towards them.

"The Warden speaks the truth. My father had me captured in order to keep me from meddling in his affairs," She continued, regarding the nobles with a confident smile. "He is no longer the man you once knew."

"Anora… I was trying to protect you," He said with dismay.

"Regardless, I am Ferelden's queen. You had no right to deprive me of my ability to rule," She replied coolly, and then turned her eyes back to the other nobles. "What you heard here today has shown you my father no longer has what is necessary to lead. As queen, I support the decision to make Prince Alistair the new king."

"Anora…" Loghain frowned, unable to understand why his daughter was standing against him.

The nobles exchanged looks.

"The queen thinks the Prince is suited?"

"Then perhaps he is…"

"I believe I have heard enough of these atrocities… I say we cast our vote now and make a decision," Eamon said as he clasped his hands behind his back, looking around the room. "What say you? Who shall take the throne and lead Ferelden through these desperate times and beyond? Should it be the man with questionable judgment or the rightful heir to the throne?"

"Most of you know who I am, therefore you know I speak with conviction when I tell you this: Blood is not the only reason Alistair should be king," Everil said her eyes upon every noble in the room. "He has witnessed the struggles of our people and has fought dutifully against the Blight to preserve their future. This man has the courage to protect Ferelden and its people. Place your trust in him and I promise you will not regret it."

In a heartbeat, Alfstanna raised her hand. "The Prince should be our new King! Loghain is not trustworthy!"

Bann Sighard raised his hand. "I vote for the Prince!"

One of the men glanced around. "I vote for Loghain. Only he can lead our forces against the Blight."

"Prince Alistair should be King!"

Alistair's eyes anxiously followed their voices as they cast their votes, a look of disbelief dawning upon his features as he heard his name be called above Loghain's.

The voting then stopped, and to Alistair's surprise, he had more votes than Loghain. He glanced over towards Everil, who was focusing her attention ahead, awaiting the announcement of their decision with her arms folded over her chest.

Without her, there would have been no way for him to win and earn their trust so quickly. So again, he owed everything to her.

Eamon stepped forth, his voice loud above the others. "It has been decided. Alistair shall be the new King of Ferelden."

"Unbelievable…" Loghain muttered in shock.

"But he shan't rule alone. A partner with political experience will ensure our king is prepared to undertake this task," Eamon continued, running a hand down his beard as he sent Alistair a brief glance.

Anora clasped her hands over her skirt, lifting her chin proudly. "I propose we arrange a marriage between he and I. My experience and reputation could prove invaluable to him."

Everil's shoulders tensed, her heart twisting at her words as her eyes trailed down to the floor.

One of the nobles spoke up. "I agree that such arrangement would place him in the best position to rule."

Eamon tipped his head in agreement, then turned his eyes towards Alistair. "What do you say, Alistair? Do you agree to marry the Queen?"

Anora frowned at the unexpected question. She had anticipated Eamon would make the decision for him in her favor, not that he would grant him the option to choose. Her hands gripped at her skirt as she gazed towards the soon to be king, nervously waiting for the answer. If he knew what was right for him and Ferelden, he would choose marriage.

Alistair gave Everil a brief look, but she was focusing her eyes on the ground, her fists closed tightly and her shoulders slumped. He took a step then, regarding the nobles with a confidence he didn't know he had as their voices died down, their attention upon him. "I humbly accept the crown, but I won't marry Anora."

Everil's head snapped towards him, her eyes wide.

Outraged, the queen glared at him. "What…?"

Alistair continued. "There is someone who fought beside me, risking her life and watching my back ever since our journey to save Ferelden began. Her leadership pulled our party through the worst of situations, and her kindness has helped many along the way."

Everil couldn't believe what she was hearing, her heart beating in her ears as she listened to him speak to everyone in the room.

"She's the woman I love and trust above all else…" He uttered, turning towards her to gently take her hand in his.

"Alistair…?" She breathed in disbelief.

"Everil Cousland... Will you marry me?" He asked, unfazed by the shocked looks on the faces of their onlookers.

Her eyes stung with unshed tears, and she had to will herself to keep her emotions in check. The fear of losing him to another woman had been so overwhelming it had become difficult to think clearly.

She drew in a breath and then spoke softly. "Yes…"

He gave her a tender smile as he brought her hand up to his lips, gently kissing it as his eyes gazed into hers.

"This is unacceptable, Arl Eamon," Anora said angrily, her eyes narrowing as the couple turned their attention to her. "The Couslands no longer hold a position of power, not since Howe took control of their lands."

"That is no longer accurate, your Majesty," Eamon said with a small smile. "It has recently come to my attention that Howe was killed by her in duel. As the sole survivor of the Cousland family, former owners of Highever, she has reclaimed her father's possessions, as well as reaffirmed her title as teyrna."

Anora glared at him. "Regardless, choosing her over me is ridiculous! We had a deal!"

"I will not deny Alistair the opportunity to marry the woman he loves," Eamon said as he shook his head. "Furthermore, by what we've seen today, Teyrn Bryce Cousland clearly taught her well. She would make an excellent queen, and she has the necessary political knowledge to help Alistair."

Anora pressed her lips into a line, her nails digging into her palms as her fists shook.

"I will not accept you as my King, Warden." Loghain's voice cut through the conversation as he reached for his blade. "I have sacrificed too much for this country to fall in your incompetent hands!"

Eamon's eyes darkened as he regarded the man with anger in his voice. "Your rash decisions have added to Ferelden's suffering as the Blight ravages the lands. Stand down, Loghain… for all our sakes."

"No," The veteran replied, his eyes then shifting towards Alistair. "And if he is truly a man worthy of respect, he will duel with me to the death."

"What?" Anora interjected worriedly. "But Father—"

"Quiet now, child," He gently commanded.

Alistair released Everil's hand, his sharp eyes upon him. "A duel huh? You murdered our friends in Ostagar, then hunted us like animals throughout Ferelden. I don't just want to duel you, I also want your head."

Loghain drew his blade. "Then it sounds like we have an agreement. Let us test the mantle of Maric's bastard son."

"Alistair," Everil gently grabbed his arm. Loghain was a veteran warrior, much more skilled in battle than him. One slip and he could die.

"I'll be fine," He uttered, drawing his sword as he stepped forward.

They began to circle each other, their eyes focused on the other's movements as those in the room watched anxiously. Anora's hand went up to her chest, her heart heavy with concern. She had seen Alistair fight and easily defeat her father's best soldier, and although Loghain had experience he was also much older. It was needless to say she feared for his life.

Loghain moved in first, bringing down his sword sideways. With a grunt, Alistair blocked the hit using his blade, the clash resounding in the room. They drew back and locked blades once more, staring each other down as their arms shook, trying to overpower each other.

Sparks flew as Loghain pushed down Alistair's sword, breaking the stalemate as the younger man was forced to dodge the blade that came down towards his shoulder. He sidestepped and stepped back as Loghain brought his sword up in a diagonal arch, narrowly missing him.

Alistair then quickly stepped forth, his sword in both hands as he brought it down with all his strength. The other man blocked as he grunted, his feet sliding back as his arms shook, his sharp blue eyes meeting the other's hazel ones. He then twisted his body, using Alistair's strength against him as he stumbled forward. Loghain then brought his arm around, his gauntlet connecting with his chin and sending him stumbling back before swinging his sword, forcing Alistair to lean back as the tip of his blade caught his face, leaving a gash along his cheekbone.

Alistair angrily wiped a thin streak of blood from his lip before charging, his sword ready. Their weapons connected again, then again, as they swung at each other repeatedly, their cries filling the room as the nobles gazed down worriedly from above. Suddenly Loghain took hold of his sword with his armored hand, pulling it aside as he lunged his sword forward towards his gut. Alistair quickly reacted by grabbing his with his own hand, just in time to avoid being ran through. He then kicked the man's stomach, pushing him off him while also knocking the air out of him.

He then swung his fist, striking Loghain across the face and causing him to let go of his blade while sending him to the floor. Just as Loghain made to stand, Alistair struck his face again, blood spraying the carpet beneath them.

"Father!" Anora cried as she ran forward, standing between the two of them. "That's enough!"

"Get out of my way..." Alistair uttered irritably, his grip on his blade tightening.

"I will not allow you to kill my father!" She bit out angrily.

A hand then grabbed her wrist, pulling her aside. "This doesn't concern you, Anora. You're being rude."

She gazed up worriedly at him. "But father…"

"Be a good girl and stand aside, my dear," He told her with a small smile, receiving a feeble nod in response. He then returned his attention to Alistair, whose hardened eyes were upon him.

Loghain spat out blood and picked up his sword, then beckoned with his hand. "Come, boy."

And he did, slashing down with his sword. Loghain struck at it, deflecting it to the side and kicking down at his feet. Alistair fell on his back with a huff, then rolled to avoid the man's sword as it came down, stabbing the floor instead. He rose to his feet and blocked a hit, then another, as Loghain continued his onslaught of attacks.

Loghain then let him swing, dodging his hit as he swung his sword sideways towards his now exposed side. Alistair moved quickly, using his pummel to deflect the man's blade as Loghain's eyes grew wide. Using his temporary loss of balance, Alistair then lunged his sword forth, piercing through his side as Loghain let out a painful cry.

"No!" Anora watched as Loghain fell to his knees while Alistair pulled his sword out of him, blood dripping upon the floor in its wake.

She made to run towards him, horror in her eyes.

"Stay back, Anora!" Her father's stern voice commanded, making her freeze on the spot.

"But you'll die!" She said bitterly.

"Then I would have deserved it," He said, his hand going to his bleeding wound as he gazed up towards his opponent. "I did terrible things. I must atone for them."

"No…" Anora's eyes turned to Alistair, who took a step towards her father. "Alistair, don't do it! My father was only trying to do what was best for Ferelden!"

Alistair's piercing eyes to her. "By killing the Grey Wardens and using people's lives to get his way? Everyone thinks they know what is best, but that doesn't make their actions any better."

Her pleading eyes then turned to Everil, who was watching intently from the sidelines. "Then please take my father into the Grey Wardens. He could-"

"Absolutely not," Alistair sharply said, his attention back down towards the man who took it all from him. "He doesn't deserve that honor."

"Enough. This is how it has to be done." Loghain swallowed, looking up at Alistair with a resolute expression. "You fought well, boy. Maric would have been proud… Now it remains to be seen if you will become the King the people of Ferelden deserve."

Alistair raised his blade, his unwavering gaze upon him. "I may not know everything about ruling a country, but I know this much: I will never betray their trust in me, and I will do my best to protect them, even from others like you. You have my word on that."

Loghain let a corner of his lip go up. "Well said…"

Anora ran forth as his sword descended upon him, her father's blood spraying over her as his severed head rolled upon the floor.

"Father!" She dropped on her knees beside him, her shaking hands hovering over his body as tears welled up in her eyes.

Eamon sadly shook his head, turning his eyes away from the quivering woman as Alistair sheathed his sword. He watched him calmly walk towards Everil, his solemn expression hiding any feelings currently coursing through him. It was hard to believe he was the same boy he raised all those years ago, the same child who once ran through the halls with a toothless grin.

For the first time since seeing him again, this boy looked like a man to him.

"Are you all right?" Everil asked softly, reaching up to the gash on his cheek.

He nodded. "I'm fine."

"Well done, Alistair," Eamon told him with a firm gaze, patting him on the shoulder. He then turned to the nobles. "With Loghain dead, Alistair is now King of Ferelden. Without marriage to the king, Queen Anora must relinquish the crown, along with all riches bestowed upon her under her rule. Neither she nor her children shall bear rights to the throne and will be unable to stake a claim to the crown henceforth."

"You bastard!"

They all turned to Anora as her hand wrapped around her father's sword, her enraged gaze turning towards Alistair as she pushed herself off the ground. She dashed towards him in a feat of anger and grief, letting out a cry as she raised her blade. But before she could reach him two soldiers blocked her path, pointing their weapons at her.

"Step aside!" She bit out, her tears blurring her vision.

The soldiers stood their ground, while one of them spoke, regarding her with a stern gaze. "Put down your weapon."

"I command you to step aside!" She tried to break through them, only to be held back by the arms as the two men grabbed hold of her. She struggled, glaring heatedly at the one who killed her father as her tears continued to flow down her flushed cheeks.

The soldiers then looked to their new king. "What shall we do, your Majesty?"

His brow furrowed, the honorific sounding strange to his ears. He glanced towards Anora, her anguished eyes meeting his. Despite utterly disliking the woman, he had just killed her father before her eyes, something he knew she would despise him for until the end of her days.

Sympathy flickered in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by an uncaring look. "Put her in the dungeon. If I die during our battle against the Blight, she can have her crown back. Otherwise, we'll see..."

"No! Let go of me!" She cried out, kicking the air as she was dragged out of the room by the guards. "You will pay for this, Alistair! I swear to you!"

They all watched her as she was taken away, some shaking their heads, while others covered their mouths in shock at the woman's behavior.

A hand on his arm made Alistair turn his head down towards Everil, seeing the gentle smile on her lips. "You should rally the nobles now. We have much to do."

"Right," He replied with a nod.

He stepped towards the center of the room and looked up towards them, a confident look in his eyes as he spoke. "Everyone. I didn't come only to bring our country together, but to seek your help against a much greater enemy. I'm sure you already know the Blight is heading towards us, destroying everything in its wake. We have to do something to stop it fast or Ferelden will be lost."

"What do you need us to do, your Highness?" Eamon asked firmly, his booming voice reaching everyone's ears.

"Everil and I have already gathered the aid of the elves, dwarves and mages. But we still need you," He said, his unwavering voice resounding through the room. "I need your soldiers, your resources, anything you can spare to help us in this grueling war."

"The darkspawn are relentless. Are you sure we can defeat them, your Majesty?" One of the nobles asked, concern creasing his brow.

"I won't lie to you. Battling the darkspawn horde and reaching the archdemon won't be easy." His eyes shifted from him to the others. "But if there is anything we have learned from past Blights, it's that we can defeat it by battling it together!"

"What say you?" Everil called, walking to stand beside him. "Will you stand with us against the darkspawn?"

"I say we join the King against the Blight!" Another noble said, rising his fist.

Another raised their voice. "Let's cast those monsters out of our lands and back to depths where where they belong!"

Soon all in the room joined in, courageously voicing their support towards their new ruler. Everil quietly gazed up at Alistair's profile, admiring just how strong he truly was.

xxxxxxx

After leaving the chamber, Everil met with her party while Alistair and Arl Eamon remained to discuss how to proceed with the gathering of soldiers and resources. Things had turned out much better than she expected, which was odd considering their horrid luck throughout their journey. At the same time victory felt short lived, considering they were soon about to face the Blight head on.

"By the Maker… So not only did Alistair become King, but also your betrothed?" Leliana asked in bewilderment after having been listening from outside.

Oghren let out a gruff laugh. "Talk about lucky... Who knew the pretty boy had it in him?"

"I am glad everything turned out well. I was worried about you two," Wynne said with a gentle smile.

"What's important is we have obtained the resources we needed to battle the Blight," Everil told them, trying to suppress her happiness by bringing the conversation back to their original mission.

"'Tis about time," Morrigan scoffed with folded arms, turning her eyes away from her.

The door behind them opened as Alistair stepped into the room, letting out a breath of relief upon leaving the nobles to talk amongst themselves.

"Regretting it already, your Highness?" Zevran uttered with a snicker.

Alistair gave him an irritated look before walking up to Everil, placing a hand upon the small of her back as he spoke. "Would you guys give us a moment?"

"Of course," Wynne replied, motioning for the others to leave the room. "Come all of you."

"Just make sure you don't get caught doing it…" Oghren said with a smirk as he passed them by, Leliana shaking her head as they walked out the door.

Everil gazed up at him as he stepped up to stand before her, his hands on her arms as he cast an apologetic look upon her. "I'm sorry I left like that this morning."

She smiled lightly. "No harm done… you more than made up for it. How did you pull this off?"

"I had a long conversation with Arl Eamon. I told him what happened at Howe's estate. That Anora tried to get us killed... that you defeated Howe… everything." He reached up to gently stroke her cheek. "I stood up to him and told him I wouldn't marry the queen because you were the one I loved. And in the end… he understood. Turns out all I had to do was be honest with him."

She frowned. "Why didn't you just tell me about your plan before you left?"

"Anora just seemed to be the type of person who would have ears everywhere. I didn't want to risk her finding out and then turn against us during the Landsmeet."

"Is that why you and Arl Eamon left so early? So you could speak to him in private?"

He nodded. "That's right."

She smiled. "Smart move."

"Thanks!" He grinned, then his smile softened. "Though that wasn't the only reason… I also had to stop somewhere on the way here."

He took her left hand and began to gently pull on her glove, sliding it off as she gave him a puzzled look. He then held her glove with his teeth, still holding her hand as he reached into his breast pocket, producing a gold band with a single, small diamond upon it.

Her eyes widened as he carefully slid the ring onto her delicate finger, the simplicity of it making it even more mesmerizing to her eyes.

After fulfilling his task, he took her glove from his mouth and smiled. "That makes it official."

"Alistair…" She whispered, tears welling up in her eyes as she smiled down at her hand.

He frowned with concern. "What's wrong? You don't like it?"

"Are you kidding? It's beautiful!" She smiled up at him through tearful eyes, then threw her arms around his neck, unable to contain her joy any longer.

He wrapped his arms around her, nearly lifting her off the ground as he held her tightly against him.

He gently nuzzled her hair. "I love you."

"I love you too…" She whispered, grabbing onto his tunic as a quiet sob escaped her lips.

For the first time since it all began, she felt truly happy.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter XXII

After making the necessary arrangements with the nobles, they were on their way back to Redcliffe, where they would gather all their forces and plan the battle before facing the Blight. She, Alistair and Eamon rode horses this time, while what remained of the royal army followed them on foot. And moments after arriving to the village the advanced state of the Blight hit them head on. Several huts were burned and villagers killed as darkspawn raided the village, while Eamon's soldiers did their best to defend the villagers from their wrath.

Everil stabbed through a hurlock and pulled out her dagger as it gargled, dropping to the ground onto a pool of its own blood. She turned her head towards another hurlock as it raised its weapon at her, blocking it with both of hers before kicking its stomach, pushing the monster of her and slashing out at its throat.

Moments later their bodies lay scattered upon the ground, the arl's soldiers finishing off the remaining enemies.

Zevran then walked up to her, wiping his brow. "I think that's all of them."

Everil sheathed her daggers. "It is. For now..."

They walked back towards where Eamon stood, talking to one of his soldiers. The young man put his arm to his chest before he walked away, hurrying to fulfill whatever task he was given.

"It is fortunate we returned when we did," Eamon told her with a sigh. "I didn't expect for them to attack Redcliffe so quickly. Come. We have a lot of preparing to do before our allied forces arrive."

The nobles were to send their soldiers to Redcliffe as a meeting point, and Everil sent messages to the elves, dwarves and mages to do the same.

After arriving to the castle she, Riordan and Alistair were called into Eamon's study, where they were to begin planning their strategy. Teagan helped spread the map over the desk, while Eamon brought out a chest with small markers stored within.

"By what our scout said the bulk of the horde is still crossing the fields to Denerim. They were last spotted here," Eamon told them, placing the mark on the map.

"That far in…" Alistair uttered with a troubled frown, folding his arms as he gazed upon the map.

"They move slowly..." Everil said as she placed her hands on the desk. "But by the time our forces get here and we reach Denerim, they would have already invaded."

"That means our strategy will have to involve fighting in the city," Alistair said uncomfortably, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "Blast it... We have to get there as soon as we can. I won't let all those people die without giving them a fighting chance."

Teagan folded his arms and brought a hand to his chin. "Hmm… there will be a lot of repairing to do after the battle."

"You can worry about that after the archdemon lies dead," Riordan told him with a somber look in his eye.

Eamon pulled out a map of Denerim from his shelf, unrolling it over the other as he pointed to the walls around the city. "When we attack they will have the advantage. They have higher ground and the city's fortifications to protect them, we will have to break through their defenses."

"We must focus our efforts on the archdemon. No matter how many darkspawn we kill, they will use their numbers to overpower us," Everil said, leaning back to cross her arms. "Killing the archdemon will cause them to retreat. If we want to save as many soldiers as we can, that would have to be our strategy."

"Then we have to reach the dragon as quickly as possible," Alistair said from beside her.

"It will look for the highest point and set its perch there to oversee the horde," Riordan offered.

"The highest point is Fort Drakon…" Eamon pulled out a piece from the chest, placing it upon the map.

Everil's eyes narrowed. "We Grey Wardens could take a group of people with us and infiltrate the tower."

"Hmm…" Eamon ran a hand down his beard. "I see… A smaller group would certainly have an easier time making it to the dragon while it focuses its armies on our forces. It would be dangerous to fight it by yourselves, however."

"Just leave the archdemon to us. We can handle it," Riordan said with a sharp look.

Eamon nodded. "All right then. I will chart the best route to Fort Drakon and finish preparations. Alistair, meet with me in the morning before we set out."

He nodded. "Got it."

The three Wardens then left the study and stepped into the hall to make their way to their rooms, and as they neared the bedrooms Riordan stopped them.

"You two come this way. There's an important matter I must discuss with you," He said as he motioned towards his room. Alistair and Everil exchanged a glance, then stepped inside with him, closing the door behind them.

"What is it?" Everil quietly asked.

Riordan drew in a breath, then folded his arms, seemingly gathering the right words as he gave then a serious look. "I imagine there are a few things Duncan didn't have the opportunity to tell you before he died. So I ask you… Do you know why it is that only Grey Wardens can defeat the archdemon?"

They exchanged a look once more, as if hoping for the other to know, but then shook their heads at him.

"I… figured as much. It's not exactly a subject we like to talk about until the time comes." He sighed. "The archdemon is a monster beyond what you have ever encountered. It is tied to the darkspawn, just as the darkspawn are tied to it through the taint. If the archdemon is defeated, its… soul is capable of transferring to the nearest darkspawn, thus avoiding death."

"Maker…" Everil uttered with a disturbed gaze. "If that were to happen then it would be almost impossible to tell which darkspawn it possessed… we could lose sight of it all together."

"Yes." Riordan tipped his head. "Which makes it twice as important to make sure one of us kills it. Which brings me to the next point... There is a price to pay for killing the archdemon. Each time a Grey Warden defeats the dragon, its soul will seek the taint in their bodies, just as it would with darkspawn. However, while darkspawn are soulless vessels, we Wardens are not. Our bodies would be unable to handle it."

Alistair tensed, a frown creasing his brow. "Wait. Does that mean that one of us will have to die to defeat the Blight?"

"That's right." Riordan then let a sideward smile make its way into his lips, trying to reassure the two. "The senior Grey Warden is always the one who takes down the archdemon, because they have lived the longest. That was Duncan's intention when he recruited you. With him gone, I am the next in line, so the task passes on to me. That means I don't want any of you to go near the dragon unless... unless I perish before we reach it. Understood?"

They both nodded mutely, still shaken by the news.

She couldn't have expected such news, and as she glanced up towards Alistair, the fear of losing him crawled its way back to her chest. If Riordan were to die before they reached the dragon one of them would be forced to kill it.

"There is also something else you will need to know… something I wish I could have told you before you assumed the throne, Alistair." Riordan spoke again, drawing her attention. "If we survive you two will likely be expected to bear an heir. Unfortunately, it's impossible for two Grey Wardens to conceive."

Everil's heart sunk, his words echoing in her mind as her hands slowly closed into fists.

"Because of the taint..." Alistair uttered quietly.

"Yes. Those cursed by it cannot bear children," Riordan spoke quietly, turning his eyes towards Everil. "I'm sorry."

Alistair looked down at her, seeing her crestallen expression.

She forced a smile. "Thank you for telling us all this."

"Of course," Riordan said solemnly. "You two should go rest now. I will see you in the morning."

"Yes. Good night." Alistair placed a hand on her back, leading her out of the room with him.

After closing the door behind them, he took her hand. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine..." She softly replied, smiling up at him.

But he could tell that wasn't true. He gently cupped her cheek, his concerned eyes meeting hers. "Listen, I—"

"King Alistair! There you are!" A high pitch voice cut in as an elven maid jogged towards them, coming to a stop before them. Her face paled upon noticing their close proximity, and she quickly dropped to the floor with a squeal, her forehead to the ground as she quivered. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt!"

They both gave the elf an odd look, then Everil reached down to help her up, trying to calm the nervous girl. "It's all right. You're all right."

"S-sorry," She stuttered, gazing up at the beautiful woman before her, her legs still shaking under her. She then bowed to him. "I-I bring a message, your Majesty."

"What it is?" He muttered, the sudden amount of reverence making him feel uncomfortable.

He had said hello in passing to this very servant the last few times they visited Redcliffe Castle, and had even joked with the soldiers a few times. And yet all it took was for him to wear expensive clothes and someone to call him king for them to start treating him differently. He didn't quite like the feeling, but he figured it would probably take time to get used to it.

"O-one of the minor lords arrived unexpectedly with his men. He demands to meet you and hear your strategy for the upcoming battle," She said with urgency in her tone.

"Eamon's the one planning the strategy, not me. He should probably talk to him instead."

She shifted uncomfortable under his stare. "Arl Eamon was the one who sent me, your Majesty. He said he's sorry to have called you back to his study so soon, but that it is necessary for you to meet his…uh guest. I was told to escort you."

He anxiously glanced towards Everil.

"Go on," She said as she smiled up at him.

He leaned over to gently kiss her cheek, causing the elf before them to squeak and turn away in embarrassment.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," He uttered and then turned to the servant. "Let's go."

Everil watched him walk away as he followed the elf, her smile slowly fading.

"You are a terrible liar."

Her head snapped in the direction of the voice, her eyes wide.

Morrigan was watching her intently with her piercing yellow eyes while standing by her room, which happened to be further down the hall from where she stood.

"What are you talking about?" Everil said as she walked up to her.

The witch unfolded her arms. "You were told that you cannot bear children with him. And you are obviously upset about it. Why not simply tell the fool?"

"I don't have time to worry about something like this right now. And neither does he." She then gazed at her with scrutinizing eyes. "And how exactly did you find out about this? Were you listening in?"

"I knew all along," Morrigan casually replied. "I also anticipated Riordan would eventually reveal the news to you, considering the grave look he carried ever since we left Denerim."

"How…?" She uttered with a frown.

"I told you before... I know many things, Warden. Such secrets can only be kept for so long and my mother has lived for many centuries. Grey Wardens should consider themselves fortunate she was capable of keeping them to herself," Morrigan said with a subtle smirk. "Well aside from sharing them with me."

"Oh… I see."

Morrigan's smirk dissipated, turning into a stern look. "I also know 'tis time you reconsider your relationship with Alistair. Better to cut it short than be forced to face the inevitable."

"What?" Everil scowled at her words. "Our inability to have children doesn't mean we will be unhappy, Morrigan."

"You forget 'tis no longer just he and you, Warden. Alistair now carries the fate of an entire country upon his shoulders. Sooner or later he will require an heir."

The Warden's eyes turned to the floor, wanting to be angry at the mage, but knowing she spoke the truth. Why was it life kept throwing obstacles towards them? Was she not meant to stay with him?

Seeing the conflict upon her eyes, Morrigan's features softened, her voice losing its edge. "I am giving you my honest opinion because, as your friend, I would not like to see you hurt."

Everil let the possibilities flip through her mind like pictures in a book, trying to sort out her thoughts and feelings.

"Thank you for worrying about me, Morrigan," She uttered with a faltering smile, before turning to walk away, whispering a soft good night as she headed towards her room.

A slight look of concern creased Morrigan's brow as she watched her go. She then let out a soft breath, finding herself deeply worried for the woman who did not only save her life more than once, but also shown her what it was like to have a friend.

If only she wouldn't have to reveal to her the truth about herself. If only fate's games were not so cruel. She hopelessly shook her head, then entered her room. _Fool..._

xxxxxxx

"A coin for your thoughts?"

Zevran had been leaning over the railing on the balcony overseeing Lake Calenhad when he turned his eyes towards Leliana, who approached him with a small smile on her lips.

He gave her a casual grin. "Are you sure you want to know what goes on in my head? I must warn you, most women often wish to lay with me after finding out."

She chuckled, leaning over the railing. "You can cut the act now. I know you're upset."

"You're much sharper than you let on." The elf shook his head as he also rested his elbows back upon the rail, the two of them gazing down at the tranquil waters as the moon reflected its light upon the lake.

She raised a brow. "No… I can simply see the obvious. You have not spoken a word to the rest of us since those two got engaged."

He reached up to lightly scratch behind his pointed ear. "Must I talk about it?"

"We shall soon be facing what will be likely the most dangerous battle of our lives. I think it would do you well to talk about your problems before possibly facing impending doom."

He chuckled. "I do enjoy your optimism."

"The Maker might watch over us during battle… but I cannot speak with certainty. No one can. Might as well be a realist, no?" She tilted her head with a smile.

"Yes…" He sighed, resting his chin on his hand. "I suppose I just never met anyone like her."

"Neither have I," She said quietly, tugging her red hair behind her ear. "It takes someone special to lead a group of misfits through a suicidal journey and make it this far. She just happens to be that one person."

"He is very fortunate." He muttered with a frown.

"You are too. If it were not for her, you would've ended up lying face down on the streets somewhere." She uttered with a troubled frown.

And he had to admin she was right. If Everil hadn't taken him with her that night, he would have been killed by the Crows for failing to eliminate her. And even after having tried to murder her, she brought him with them, giving him the second chance he needed to free himself from their hold. After their battle against the Blight he would be free to roam Thedas as he wished and go on any adventures he desired.

"Knowing her, she will release you after all this is over. You should look forward to it," Leliana uttered, her knowing eyes gazing upon him.

"You know your way with words, sister. Were you really just a traveling bard?" He raised a brow at her as he smirked.

She giggled, her soft voice soothing to his ears. "Let's just say I have good listening skills too."

Zevran could only smile. After talking to her the weight on his shoulders felt lighter. He had something to look forward to, which was rare in a life lived in slavery towards a guild of assassin. He couldn't wait.

"So what will you do after all this is over?" He asked curiously, shifting his eyes to her. "Will you be returning to the Chantry?"

Leliana sighed. "Eventually, I suppose. I… have a few loose ends to tie in Orlais."

"Is that so? Do those loose ends have something to do with the reason you traveled to these dog-infested lands?"

Her eyes hardened as she gaze down to the waters below. "Yes… After traveling with Evy I have learned I can't keep running away from my past. I have to settle the score with the person who betrayed me and used me… even it ends up turning me into someone I dislike."

Zevran's eyes turned serious. "It sounds like they did something terrible to you... Would you like some help?"

She shook her head with a smile. "No. This will be my battle... But thank you for offering."

"Anytime, sister." He smiled, patting her shoulder.

They continued to chat upon the balcony, looking out towards the open world as it suddenly seemed full of promise. If they survived their lives would forever be changed by their journey, but then they would know that if they could help defeat a Blight, then perhaps they had what it takes to take on anything the future had in store for them.

xxxxxxx

Wynne placed the book she had been reading down upon the desk, her wrinkled hand going over the hard cover as she let a small smile tug at her lips. It was surprising how far they had gone since Ostagar. They were almost at the end. It was a good feeling, while at the same time she felt it was slightly saddening.

She had traveled and seen much more than she ever had before, having been locked away in a Circle for most of her life. Meeting new people and fighting alongside them had also been a rejuvenating experience, one she would no doubt miss.

A knock on her door had her turn towards it as she adjusted her robe, before she walked towards it, wondering who it might be at that time of night. She opened it to see a rock wall before her, then smiled when she looked up to gaze at the face upon it.

"Apologies if I disturbed your sleep," Shale said with a stiff frown.

"Oh you're fine. Come on in," She said as she stepped aside.

The golem had to duck and squeeze brought the door, but successfully entered the small room. Having a quick look around before regarding the old Mage once more.

"What can I help you with, Shale?"

Shale's expression turned into one of uneasiness as she spoke. "I… came to propose something to you. After the battle, I will be setting out to seek a way to rid myself of my immortality, to return to my dwarven self. I remembered what you told me, and thought to ask if you would like to come along with me."

Wynne walked towards her bed, sitting at the edge as she seemed to contemplate the golem's offer. She was both blessed and cursed with a spirit that not only allowed her to heal others, but would keep her from death. Dying wasn't something most desired, but she was an old and worn woman who had already lived her life to the fullest. Living the rest of her life in peace until death would be a welcomed end.

"Of course," She finally replied with a smile. "I was not ready to settle down after this, anyway."

Shale seemed to smile. "All right then. I suppose we can view it as yet another journey."

"Indeed."

"How are you holding up? You have had to use your powers quite a bit lately."

Wynne shrugged a shoulder. "It is draining, but I am happy to help the Grey Wardens. We have accomplished so much… I'm glad to have been a part of it."

Shale nodded. "Let's hope we win this battle. I would hate to see you all become a stain on the ground after all you've been through."

"Lady Everil's leadership will pull us through." Wynne said with unwavering confidence. "I have no doubts."

"Heh. I suppose that little human does have what it takes." She uttered, folding her massive arms over her chest.

"We are fortunate to have met her." Wynne said with a gentle look in her eye.

Yes. If anyone could win it all for them, it would be her.

xxxxxxx

"Wrong card, big guy."

Sten quietly glared at the dwarf as he slowly picked up the small piece of woven paper, putting it back in his stack before picking the next one over.

Oghren snickered and took a drink from his pint, his cheeks already flaring. The dwarves had already arrived from Orzammar at the Warden's request, bringing with them barrels of the dwarven ale he had sorely missed since he left. They gathered just outside the village by a campfire, some singing and dancing their worries away while others like him played card games to do the same. In days they would be fighting the biggest battle of their lives, one that would put the proving to shame. Some may not even make it back home to their families and some others would likely lose their friends.

He scoffed, throwing a card down. "Your turn."

"Your people prepare for battle in an odd way," Sten commented dryly, sending a brief glance towards the dancing dwarves.

"Better to die merry than die a sad sod." He muttered with a smirk. "Do you qunari ever have fun?"

Sten gave him a blank stare, pointing to his cards. "Is this not called a game?"

Oghren looked down at his cards, his brows shooting up. "Ancestor's balls... So you're having fun right now?"

The qunari pulled another card and threw it down over Oghren's feet as the dwarf looked down in surprise

"Sod it… did you just beat me?"

A rare smirk made its way into Sten's lips before he picked up the coins from the dirt, having won their bet.

Oghren let out a rough laugh. "Pure luck, big guy."

"Luck is not needed when there is skill." Sten uttered, stacking the earnings.

"You heading back to your people after this is done?" The dwarf picked up the cards, shuffling them for another round.

Sten nodded.

"I might not… the surface is growing on me." Oghren uttered, looking towards his fellow dwarves. "Much better than Orzammar."

He knew that if they failed it wasn't just the surface that would be affected, the darkspawn would eventually take over Orzammar as well. No amount of armies would be able to stop it them.

"Again," Sten said, extending his hand for the cards.

The dwarf took another swig of ale and wiped his mouth with the back of hand, giving the qunari a cocky grin. "All right damn it… but I warn you, I never lose twice."

A corner of Sten's lips went up. "We shall see."

xxxxxxx

Eamon had taken over most of the conversation, providing all the information they possessed and promising more details before the battle takes place. Meanwhile Alistair had initially wondered why he hadn't simply told the lord he had gone to bed for the night, but after seeing the terrified look on his face, he understood why meeting him in person was been necessary.

He knew what it was like to fight blind, and he wasn't too fond of the idea of dying for something he couldn't understand. There were only terrifying tales of the darkspawn and the Blight, following someone you've never met would not help ease the fear. Especially when the one afraid was also responsible for leading a portion of the men who were about to risk it all in his name.

He ran a hand down his face as he left the room, suddenly feeling the pressure. He was no longer just some guy with a sword, he was now the one everyone looked to for reassurance in the face of a seemingly impossible battle, one from which many might not return.

Which was likely what Eamon wanted to show him during the meeting. With a sigh, he gazed up towards the end of the hall and towards her room.

The bad news came one after the other for them. Just when he thought everything was going well, misfortune reared its ugly head. It was something they had almost grown to expect, and he felt this time it hit a little harder.

Giving an heir to the house she married into was expected of any woman of noble blood and it was something the other nobles would no doubt look forward to. And after traveling from village to village it became apparent to him how much she truly liked children. The revelation was likely both disappointing and saddening to her.

And unexpectedly, it was for him too.

He hadn't given the matter much thought before, not even during the times they slept together, but after their conversation he realized he would have liked to eventually have a child with her. To raise it with her and finally have the family he always wanted. Still, regardless of it all, he felt no regrets about asking her to marry him. Crown or no crown.

Then there was the matter of the sacrifice one of them would have to make to end the Blight. He didn't even want to think about the possibility of her being the one to end up having to kill the dragon and dying in the process. He shook his head, trying to dispel the troubling thought as he paused before her door. _One thing at a time, Alistair…_

He knocked on the door. "Everil?"

"Is that you, Alistair?" He heard from inside.

"Yes."

"Come in."

He opened the door and curiously poked his head inside to find her submerged in a tub as she bathed.

"Hey." She smiled at him, her wet hair clinging to her flushed cheeks and pale shoulders while rose petals floated around her, their scent invading his senses.

"Sorry... I could uh… come back later," He muttered, his eyes focusing on what he could see of her breasts above the water.

"Stay, dear," She said with a chuckle, and gave him a hopeless grin. "You have seen my body many times now. Watching me bathe is no different."

"I… suppose you're right," He uttered and entered the room, closing the door behind him. He noticed then there was something missing in the room. "Where's Magnus?"

"In the kennels. I asked the servants to ensure he was well fed and prepared for battle," She responded and motioned for the chair by her tub. "Did everything turn out well with the lord?"

He walked up, letting out a huff as he took a seat. "Yes… He basically just wanted to meet me."

"They want to know who they will be fighting for. It's understandable," She said as she ran a wet rag down her neck, trying to rid herself of the blood from their earlier encounter with the darkspawn.

"That's what Arl Eamon said." He sighed again, leaning forward to place his chin on his hand. "I'm not very good at this."

"It will come to you," She told him with an encouraging smile before running a soapy rag down her shoulder, then along her arm.

"Yes… hope so," He mumbled numbly, his eyes following her sensual movements as she dragged the cloth over her soft skin, finding the simple action highly alluring. Just watching her helped ease the tension on his shoulders, despite also causing his pulse to quicken.

Catching himself in a daze, he cleared his throat, sitting up in his chair as he remembered what it was he came to speak to her about. "Everil…"

"Hm?" She turned her eyes to him, her brows going up.

"About… what Riordan said... Are you sure you're all right?"

Sadness crossed her features and she cast her eyes down to the water. "Could you help me with the robe, please?"

With a solemn look he complied, taking the plain white robe from his chair as he stood. She then rose from the water before he promptly draped the robe over her shoulders, allowing her to slip her arms through the sleeves. She stepped out of the tub and tied the sash around her waist, before her eyes once again met his.

"I guess… I was just worried," She quietly said, then walked past him to her dresser, picking up a comb to carefully brush her chocolate strands.

"If it's about us getting married, our engagement still stands," He firmly told her, then his confident look faltered. "Unless… you've changed your mind…"

"No… I want to be with you," She said as she let a sad smile tug at her lips, her eyes gazing at him through the mirror. "But is that what you truly want? I… I will not be able to give you a child… the family you deserve."

Alistair smiled lovingly at her as he stepped closer, standing behind her as his hands came to rest over her shoulders. "You are the only family I need, my love."

She felt her eyes sting with unshed tears. "But Ferelden will require an heir…"

His hands slid down to her waist before he wrapped his arms around it, drawing her close to him as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

She saw him smile at her through their reflection, her heart racing when noticing the desire in his eyes.

"If there's anything we're especially good at, it's at not giving up," He said as his stared intently at her, his cheek gently pressing against hers. "So if Ferelden doesn't get an heir… it won't be for lack of trying."

"I suppose that's true…" She let out a soft chuckle. "I guess it's a good thing we started when we did."

He turned his head to tenderly brush his lips against her cheek, leaving a tingling sensation that sent a shiver up her spine.

"Maybe we should try again tonight…" He murmured, trailing feather-light kisses down to the crook of her neck. A soft moan escaped her lips as she tilted her head to the side, granting him better access while his hands made their way up to her chest.

She stared at their reflection through dazed eyes, watching as he parted her robe and then placed his hands over her exposed breasts, fondling them as she moaned lustfully.

"I like the way you think…" She whispered as she turned around to face him, her arms wrapping around his neck before she pressed her lips to his.

He held her by her hips as he deepened the kiss, drawing a sigh out of her as their tongues began to move against each other with mind-numbing passion. Alistair's hands then slid over to her rear, his fingers digging into her skin as he pressed his erection against her abdomen. She whimpered with delight, gently nibbling on his bottom lip while she brought her hands to his chest. Her fingers expertly unbuckled the straps on his thick leather vest, then the string holding the top half of his tunic closed. She then impatiently pushed apart the offending fabric, revealing his hard torso.

She strayed from their hot kiss and trailed her lips down his jaw and neck, drawing a groan out of him before her hands moved on to work on his breeches. As she untied the string she slowly trailed her kisses along his collarbone, then down his chest as he shuddered under her touch.

Everil looked up at him through her long lashes as she continued venturing south, smiling inwardly upon seeing curiosity laced with lust in his eyes. She went to her knees and finished undoing the string on his pants before sliding them down along with his undergarments, freeing his hardened member.

Her eyes gazed upon it and she bit her lip, admiring its size as it stood at attention for her, twitching with excitement.

He gulped as he watched her bring her hand up to it, a chill shooting up his body when her fingers wrapped around him.

"Eve—ah…!" His breath caught in his throat when the warmth of her mouth enveloped him, making him tense at the unfamiliar, yet enjoyable feeling that spread through his shaft.

She closed her eyes and moved her head forward, taking in as much as she could as he shivered helplessly. She then drew back, dragging her tongue along his shaft as he groaned, throbbing within her moist mouth. Everil then moved forth again as she pressed her lips around him a little tighter, her tongue stroking his pulsing length as her sensual moan vibrated around him.

"Oh Maker…!" He breathed, his hand reaching for the edge of the dresser for support as his knees grew weaker, each back and forth movement of her head sending deep jolts of pleasure rushing along his aching manhood.

She felt his unsteady fingers weakly stroke her hair as she continued pleasing him, sighing through her nose while enjoying his husky moans as her own parts longed for him, growing wet between her legs. Wanting to hear more of him, she sucked harder, forcing his member all the way into her mouth, earning an unusually loud groan out of him.

He could barely think, the erotic sight below him clouding his mind as the pleasurable sensations intensified to an almost overwhelming level. _At this rate..._

"W-wait…!" He whispered breathlessly, his hand coming down to her shoulder as he stopped her motions.

She opened her eyes and pulled back to gaze up at him, her hands still stroking along his shaft as she absently licked her lips. "Yes…?"

 _Maker…_

He never felt that weak before anyone in his life.

Something inside him told him to turn it around, to do the same to her, to make her cry out his name as he fulfilled her every desire. He drew in a breath, steadying himself before gently detaching her hand from him to help her up.

"My turn…" He uttered as she stood, then took her by the hips, lifting her up to sit her upon the dresser, carelessly knocking objects in the process. He spread her knees and knelt before her legs came to rest over his shoulders, his lips then seeking the pink flower between her things. She moaned as she felt him suddenly run his tongue through her folds and against her g-spot, hot pleasure spreading up from her center.

Then he licked her again, drawing another moan before she bit her lip and leaned back on one arm, giving him better access to her moist sex.

With his hands on her thighs, Alistair ran his tongue through her petals once more, then suckled on her, tasting her sweet nectar as her whimpers filled his ears.

"Alistair…" She breathed as her head rolled back in ecstasy, her fingers stroking his hair. She panted as his hot breath warmed her parts, his tongue sending delicious sensations shooting through her with each stroke. Then he moved his focus to her clit, his tongue flicking it and sending a jolt that caused her to nearly squeal. He then did it again, and again, his wet tongue repeatedly stroking her center as it throbbed, drawing loud moans out of her each time.

He continued to play her like a lute, her hips absently tilting up with each caress of his tongue.

"Alistair… if you keep going I…" She whimpered weakly.

But despite her plea he continued, and this time he brought his hand up, inserting his finger in her opening while suckling harder on her most sensitive point. She groaned loudly then, her mind completely clouded by the sudden spike of pleasure. With each thrust of his finger and stroke of his tongue, the sensations intensified, causing her insides to tense as he pulled her closer and closer to her climax.

And before she knew what was happening she came, crying out his name as her entire body rocked uncontrollably with each overwhelming wave washing over her. He pulled out his finger to drag his tongue over her, moaning against her while enjoying the sweet taste of her loins, causing her hips to twitch every time.

She whimpered breathlessly, watching him through half-closed eyes as her body suddenly felt numb.

He then stood and his lips sought her neck, his wet kisses making her shiver as her arms slid over his shoulders. He pressed the tip of his member to her still tingling parts and as if reading her unspoken question, he whispered into her ear.

"We're not done yet..."

While still sitting at the edge of the dresser, she felt him penetrate her, his hard rod sliding in through her now soaking walls. She moaned as his length entered her, sending a new wave of pleasure through her body when he reached the top. Her fingers curled around the fabric of his tunic as he began to slowly thrust into her, his member sliding in and out of her as the gradual grinding dulled her senses.

She lightly kissed his jaw, then his neck, her tongue stroking his skin as she breathed heavily.

He groaned as his hand slid under her robe, cupping her breast and pinching her nipple as the sudden, sharp pain caused her to whine softly.

"More…!" She pleaded.

His strong hands then held her hips in place as he picked up the pace, thrusting faster and making her mewl with delight as the friction intensified.

She leaned back on one arm once more, while her other hand remained upon his shoulder, her legs wrapping around his hips. She whimpered as she bit her lip, her lustful eyes staring into his.

Alistair then slowed to a stop and pulled out of her, and before she could ask questions he picked her up by the hips, her arms wrapping around his neck as he lifted her. He took her to the bed, lowering her onto her back as he knelt upon the mattress. She impatiently watched him slip his hands under her legs and behind her knees, bending them towards her chest and tilting her hips up in the process.

His member then darted into her, the new angle letting him reach deeper than before as she cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. He began to thrust in, his manhood repeatedly lunging into her as sharp bolts shook her core each time.

"Maker! Oh Maker!" She loudly called out, her hands closing into fists around the covers as he roughly ravaged her depths, his deep groans joining her cries.

"Say my name, Everil… My name...!" He commanded, mercilessly pounding against her.

"Alistair!" She moaned loudly, his tone further robbing her of her self-control.

"Again!" He breathed, his eyes locked with hers as he continued his assault on her.

"Alistair…!" She cried out for him over and over, her body edging closer to a release each time their hips clashed.

He felt her constrict around him with each thrust, and he wanted nothing but to push her over the edge. He picked up the pace, determined to make her climax as he felt the pressure slowly build up within his groin. One, then two, then three more thrusts and they both came pummeling down. Her depths swallowed up his warm seed as it filled her womb, his loud groans drowned out by her cries as they echoed through the empty halls.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter XXIII

Everil let out a soft breath as she steered, her mind awaking from yet another nightmare as she rolled onto her back. Her eyes fluttered open and she squinted at the light in the room, her head hazy with sleep.

She slowly sat up, the slight soreness between her legs promptly reminding her of the prior night's events, the memory bringing a pleased smile to her lips.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you look when you sleep?"

She groggily turned her head towards him, and her eyes widened the moment they landed upon him. "I…uh…"

Golden armor glimmered under the sunlight as he sat on the chair by the window, casually leaning back with his cheek on his fist after waiting for her to rise. It was a replica of the armor Cailan wore in Ostagar, with the same royal emblem that marked him as Ferelden's King.

"Are you all right?" He uttered with slight concern and rose from his chair, walking up to the bed to sit on the edge before gently taking her hand in his.

"I… I'm fine. Nice armor." She muttered with a grin, finding that the armor actually looked better on him than it did on Cailan, giving him both a regal and intimidating appearance.

"Ah yes. I guess the arl picked it up from the royal palace before we left Denerim," He said and then gave her a playful grin. "The servant he sent with it had to hunt me down because I wasn't in my room. You should have seen the look on her face when she saw you naked in bed. Hilarious."

"Alistair…!" She felt heat rise up to her cheeks, absently covering herself with the sheets.

He chuckled at her reaction, then brought her hand up to gently kiss it. "Though her eyes lingered on your breasts a little too long for my liking…"

She shook her head hopelessly. "Well... the armor suits you."

He sighed and looked down at himself, the adorable look on his face resembling that of a dejected child. "I still like the Grey Warden armor better."

"I know you do." She gently stroked his cheek as he leaned into her touch. He then placed his hand on hers and turned his head to tenderly kiss her palm.

"I should get ready. Arl Eamon and the others are probably waiting for us," She uttered, lowering her arm.

"Yes… I actually have to meet with him at his study before we go," He said as he stood, then leaned over to give her a soft kiss on the lips. "I'll see you there."

With a dreamy sigh she watched him walk towards the door and step out of the room, closing the door behind him. But her happiness ebbed away when the Blight made its way back into her mind, her eyes downcast as Riordan's words seemed to haunt her.

She learned much from their travels, one of the lessons being that regardless of the amount of attention to details, there was always a chance for strategies to go awry. There was a real possibility that Riordan could die trying to reach the archdemon, or during his battle with it, leaving either she or Alistair with the responsibility of killing it. The thought of losing the man she loved instantly made her chest tighten uncomfortably, and when she imagined herself without him the pressure became almost unbearable.

Furthermore, his death would not only affect her, but Ferelden would be without a king once more.

"I won't allow it..." She told herself with a confident look upon her features. She would be the one to kill the dragon. She would give up her life for his in a heartbeat.

xxxxxxx

Two days passed since they left Redcliffe, having been forced to take their army the long way north to avoid the blighted lands further south. As they marched, dwarves, elves and mages flew their individual banners, while the human forces carried Ferelden's royal flag. Each group moved in an organized fashion, one after the other as Alistair, Everil and the rest of their party led them on horseback at the front. Eamon also rode with them, serving as the advisor to the king upon leaving Teagan to temporarily help handle matters in Redcliffe.

They were traveling through the woods and by a nearby lake when they stopped to rest the night before the battle. The soldiers gathered around campfires, eating and laughing in an effort to ignore the fear of what was to come.

Everil silently watched them from beside her tent, her arms folded over her chest. It was certain many of the men and women gathered before her would not survive past tomorrow. That knowledge alone was enough to put weight on her shoulders, and she recalled one of the many wise lessons her father taught her many years ago.

 _"Our soldiers and their families are our most valuable followers."_

" _Why is that papa?"_

" _Because they are the only ones willing to give up everything to protect us and our people. Their sacrifice makes peace possible. Never take them for granted."_

Footsteps beside her made her turn her attention to one of the soldiers as he approached her, his fist coming to his chest as he spoke. "My lady, the king sends for you. He and the arl are ready to communicate the final strategy for the battle."

"Very well. Take me to him," She replied firmly.

The young soldier then walked ahead of her as she followed him towards the edge of the wide clearing, where a table was set up. Alistair, Riordan, Eamon and two commanding officers stood around it, their light source a flickering candle sitting upon it. The picture vaguely reminded her of Ostagar and the time before the battle, but she shoved the memory aside, trying not to think of the possibility of defeat.

"There you are," Alistair greeted as she approached to stand across from him on the other side of the table.

"I heard we have a solid plan?" Everil asked as she gazed down at the map.

Eamon nodded. "I drafted the quickest route for you and your chosen party to reach Fort Drakon. Unfortunately, there is a possibility you will have to fight your way there."

"After thinking about it for a while longer, I started to doubt they would just move in and stand around waiting for us," Alistair said as he folded his arms. "If they have any brains at all, they would want to close off the roads to the tower in order to make it more difficult for us to reach the archdemon."

"That's true…" Everil uttered quietly, a frown creasing her brow. "Then perhaps a detachment would have to assist."

Eamon nodded, his hands behind his back. "That is part of the plan."

"We send soldiers from each of our allies to follow the Grey Wardens and fight at their command, while the rest of the army liberates each district from the enemy forces," Alistair said as he leaned over the map. "The main goal is to kill the dragon, but we also have to keep the darkspawn on their toes, otherwise they will use their numbers against us. Which… would be pretty bad."

"That sounds like a good plan, thought I would like to suggest a minor adjustment," Riordan said somberly. "I would like to use the chaos to try and make my way to the dragon on my own. If we can defeat it sooner, we may not lose as many lives." He then turned to Everil. "Everil, you will lead the party and fight your way in. This in case I need your help... or in case... I fail to kill it."

"I'll be going with her too."

Everyone turned their eyes towards Alistair, who had a firm look in his eyes.

"Your Majesty, I don't believe that is necessary," Eamon said with concern.

"Sorry, but my decision is final. I'm also a Grey Warden and I won't let my comrades risk their lives without me," Alistair told him, leaving no room for argument.

"Then I suppose we will have to pray to the Maker you make it back alive, your Highness," His Knight Lieutenant spoke, a troubled look in his eye.

"Don't worry about me, just focus on leading the men against the darkspawn," He said with a smile. He barely knew the man, yet the knight had followed him without question since the moment he assumed the throne. "At any rate, we should go rest for the tonight. We'll be heading to battle before sunrise."

The knights brought bouts their fist to their chests and bowed before walking back to camp. Then Riordan gently patted Everil's shoulder, nodding to her before heading back, as well.

"Well done, Alistair," Eamon uttered with an approving smile. "Make sure you return in one piece tomorrow. Ferelden needs you."

"I'll do my best…" Was all he could say.

They both then watched the arl also make his way to his tent, before she turned to Alistair.

"Alistair… I don't think you should come with us."

His brow furrowed. "What?"

"As Riordan said, if he fails against the archdemon, someone else must take that responsibility," She uttered, her unwavering gaze meeting his.

His shoulders tensed. "So you're telling me that someone will be you…"

"Yes," She replied without hesitation.

"You can't," He said curtly, walking around the table towards her. "I won't let you."

She sighed with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Alistair, you're the King of Ferelden. Compared to you, I am expendable."

"No, please don't say that..." He uttered as his hands came to rest on her arms, his pained eyes gazing down into hers. "You're everything to me. If I lose you, nothing else will matter."

She reached up to lightly cup his cheek. "I feel the same way… which is why I want to do this. For both your sake and Ferelden's."

He gently pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around her with his hand on the back of her head as he held her close. She returned the embrace, closing her eyes as the cool metal of his armor pressed against her body.

"Damn it…" He helplessly breathed into her hair. "There has to be another way…"

"There is."

Surpsied by the unexpected voice, they both pulled back enough to look towards it.

"Morrigan…" Everil's brow furrowed.

Morrigan stood with arms crossed at the edge of the clearing, her amber eyes glowing through the darkness as she stared back at them.

"You know about this...?" Alistair turned to face her with a scrutinizing stare.

"About the need for a Grey Warden to sacrifice themselves to kill the archdemon? Yes," Morrigan replied dryly, then motioned towards the woods behind her. "Come... What I have to say mustn't be heard by anyone else but the both of you."

Alistair and Everil exchanged glances before they silently followed her, both carrying unsettling feelings at the witch's cryptic words. She led them deeper into the forest, far enough so only the subtle glow of the campfires could be seen from a distance. Finding a good spot to talk, she faced them, waving her hand to light the tip of her staff for light.

"All right, Morrigan. What's your solution?" Alistair asked impatiently, earning a sharp look from the witch.

"Allow me to speak and you will know, fool," She muttered moodily, her arms once more crossing over her chest as she turned her eyes to Everil. "I know a way to save all Grey Wardens from death after defeating the archdemon. It is a ritual taught to me by my mother, and the real reason why I was sent on this quest with you."

"The real reason…?" Everil repeated quietly.

"As you well know, the archdemon was once an old god, corrupted by the darkspawn. Once defeated, its soul will seek out the Grey Warden who kills it, destroying both the Warden and the old god's soul in the process." Morrigan tilted her chin, her expression cool and collected. "I wish to preserve the old god's soul and keep its power, but to do so I will require a pure vessel. To obtain this vessel, the ritual I mentioned must be performed on the eve of battle. Tonight."

"I knew there was more to it when your mother sent you with us," Alistair said as his eyes narrowed, a hint of anger in his voice. "So what does it all mean? What do you need from us?"

"I shall be blunt," Morrigan said, directing her catlike eyes towards him. "I require a Grey Warden's seed for this... Alistair, you must lay with me tonight."

"What!" He took a step back.

Everil's eyes widened. "What are you…?"

Morrigan clicked her tongue. "The vessel that is to be produced in the ritual is an unborn child. Once the dragon lies dead, the child will draw its soul like a beacon, absorbing it into its being and sparing the Grey Wardens in the process."

Everil frowned. "And what happens then...?"

The witch gave her a calculating look. "After the battle is over, I will simply disappear from your lives forever. The child will be mine to raise as I please, far away from you, and no one but you and Alistair will ever know of its existence."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing…" Alistair breathed, a revolted look upon his features.

"But why must it be Alistair? Why can't it be Riordan instead?" Everil demanded, vexed by the woman's proposal.

"It must be a Grey Warden who has not lived with the taint for so long. Riordan is too far gone. He will be unable to bear a child," Morrigan said, meeting her gaze. "Therefore, unless you know of someone else in the immediate area, Alistair is the only one who can give me what I need."

Everil' hands closed into fists. "I see…"

"This is ridiculous!" Alistair protested with disdain, glaring heatedly at the witch. "My life was a mess thanks to my royal father's mistake, now you're asking I bear a bastard child as he did! Not to mention that means I have to sleep with another woman! How could you ask me to do something like that!"

"I am offering you a way out! Do you not wish for the both of you to survive?" She shot back.

"Of course I do! But what warranty do I have that this bastard child of mine won't come back seeking the throne? Or that you won't use this against us someday?"

Morrigan scowled. "None. You will simply have to trust me."

"Oh! Well isn't that great?" Alistair threw up his arms, then began to walk back. "I'm done talking. I'm going back to my tent and pretend this conversation never happened!"

Everil numbly watched him go, not knowing what to think about Morrigan's proposal as conflicting feelings swirled within her chest.

Morrigan's cool eyes warmed lightly at her troubled look. "If you wish to save the man you love, go speak to him. Only you can convince him."

Everil glanced towards her, giving her a betrayed look as she sighed. "Why didn't you just tell me from the beginning?"

Morrigan sighed and shook her head. "We have no time for sentimentalism, Warden. And I also have no interest in talking about this further." The witch then pointed toward the nearby lake. "There is a cave in the far side of the lake, far enough from the campsite. Tell him I shall be waiting for him there, should he accept my offer."

"But Morrigan…" Everil breathed with a deep frown. "Won't... won't doing this hurt the child?"

She sighed irritably. "It will be a healthy child... no harm will come to it."

Everil then gulped, her eyes downcast. "All right..."

"I suggest you make haste, girl," With that the witch whirled around and continued her trek to the lake, leaving her standing in the woods with her distressing thoughts.

xxxxxxx

Alistair moodily laid his armor on the nearby chair and flopped onto the edge of the bed, Morrigan's words lingering in his mind. If only there was something else they could do to make sure no one died. If only there was a miracle somewhere out there.

"Blast it…" He muttered angrily.

"Your Majesty," He heard the guard outside his tent call. "Lady Everil seeks to speak with you."

Alistair adjusted his white tunic as he stood, walking towards the door. He opened the flap of his now much bigger tent, his eyes landing on hers, seeing the haunted look within them. His eyes softened and he extended an arm towards her. "Come in…"

She walked inside, his hand on her back as he led her in. He then paused and turned his attention to the guard. "You can go sleep for the night."

The guard gave him a worried gaze, "But... Arl Eamon said to guard your tent."

Alistair offered him a lopsided smile. "I've survived this long without guards watching my back. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to keep myself alive one more night."

The soldier fidgeted uncomfortably. "And what if the arl asks me why I'm not at my post?"

"Then just tell him it was the king's orders. Then he'll know to come yell at me instead," He said with a grin, then gestured to the soldier's campsites. "Now go on. I've to talk with my betrothed in private."

A knowing smile descended upon the guard's face and he nodded before bowing to him. "Good night, your Majesty."

He nodded. "Good night."

Alistair watched the guard walk away, then slipped inside the tent to see her patiently sitting at the edge of the bed. And his smile faded as he walked towards the chair across from her. "I won't do it."

"Alistair…" She spoke softly, her gaze upon him as he took a seat.

"And I can't believe you're even considering it," He added, leaning over with elbows on his knees.

She sighed weakly. "We don't have a choice..."

"I hate those words…" He let out a breath, sliding off the chair and onto his knees before her. He clasped her hands between his, his eyes gazing up into hers. "Why would you want this of me? Doesn't it bother you?"

She nodded slowly, a sad smile on her lips. "But... even if it hurts... I would rather you sleep with her than lose you to the Blight."

He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that night, filled with a mixture of unpleasant emotions. He didn't want to hurt her, and he didn't want to risk her death either, but as he stared up at her beautiful blue eyes he felt himself cave into her plea.

"You know I will do anything you ask..." He uttered with a heavy heart. "...So ask me."

She swallowed the knot in her throat, holding in the tears as her heart protested painfully to the words she was about to speak. She drew in a breath. "I… I want you to sleep with Morrigan tonight..."

Alistair brought her hands up to gently kissing her knuckles, and his lips lingered over her hands, his eyes closing as he collected himself.

"All right..." He breathed and then rose to his feet, gently pulling her up into a tight embrace as she buried her face into the fabric of his tunic.

"Just please remember…" He murmured into her hair. "I'm doing this for you and only you. She means nothing to me."

"I know…" She softly replied.

"Promise me you'll remember."

She nodded weakly against his chest, her hands gripping his shirt. "I promise..."

"Good…" He then slowly pulled back to gaze down into her eyes, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks. "I love you…"

"I love you too…" She whispered and her eyes slid shut as he leaned down to sprinkle tender kisses on her lips. And with each soft kiss her heart ached, for soon those lips and his strong hands would be touching another.

xxxxxxx

Hearing footsteps approaching, Morrigan stood up from beside the fire, turning towards the cave entrance as a hooded figure stepped in.

"I see she managed to persuade you," She said coolly, a small smirk upon her features. "And you kept yourself hidden from your subjects on your way here. Good work. We would not want your future wife's reputation tarnished by this, now would we?"

Alistair slid the hood off his head, his irritated eyes glaring back at her. "Let's just get this over with, Morrigan."

She chuckled as she approached him, causing his shoulders to tense.

"You sound angry... Odd for a man who is about to have sex the night before a great battle. Most would be thrilled beyond belief."

He scowled with distaste at her words. "Everil is waiting for me to return to her after I'm done bedding a woman she once considered a friend. So yes… forgive me for not being particularly excited about any of this."

"Come now, Alistair…" She purred as her hands slid off the scraps of fabric from her body, revealing her chest to him. "You can't honestly say you won't at least enjoy it..."

He narrowed his eyes as they instinctively followed the curve of her breasts, his pulse quickening despite the uncomfortable feeling in his chest. She reached up and unclasped her necklace, carelessly dropping it on the ground before undoing her midnight hair, letting it drape over shoulders. She then walked up to him, sensually swaying her hips as her skirt dropped from her body, showing him her hourglass curves.

Alistair swallowed, he wanted to look away, to not like what he was seeing, but his racing heart betrayed him.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, making his cloak drop from his shoulders as she pressed her breasts to his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, only for her to silence him with her lips. His eyes widened as he felt her tongue invade his mouth, and before he knew what he was doing, he was kissing her back, his hands slowly coming up to her bare hips. He then slid a hand up between their bodies to cup her breast, fondling it as he released a heavy breath.

The moment her moan reached his ears, he snapped out of it, his hands flying to her shoulders before he pushed her back.

"I can't do it…" He breathed, regret etched upon his eyes.

An irritated look crossed her features, but it was then replaced by a smug smirk. "Is that so…?" Her hand found its way to his crotch, and she pressed against it, air catching in his throat as he felt himself throb under her touch.

"Morrigan…" He grunted, making a feeble attempt at glaring at her.

"Stop wasting time, Alistair," She said as she began to untie his breeches.

He watched her undress him, suddenly feeling helpless. Everil was the one he wanted to be with. The one he wished to touch and please until morning. But if there were anything more truthful in his life, it was that fate was a cruel mistress.

After sliding off his trousers, she pulled up his tunic, tossing it aside before her hands roamed his chiseled chest. She kissed along his jaw, her fingers trailing down his abs as he shuddered, stifling a moan. Since the moment the two Wardens became lovers, she had long buried the strange feelings she had for him, but she was still a woman, and she had to admit she yet found his body tantalizing.

"Still…" His hands absently held her hips, heat rising up his body as guilt clouded his mind. "I might not… be able to…"

"If it helps, then pretend I am she," She muttered in frustration.

He sought her lips then, shocking her as he passionately devoured them.

 _Of course 'tis all it took…_

She moaned against his lips, her tongue wrestling with his as he slowly led her to the furs by the fire. He carefully lowered her upon them, her legs spreading for him as his lips slid from her mouth to her jaw, leaving a hot trail upon her skin. Then suddenly something hard began to enter her, making her gasp as he penetrated her waiting depths. His length had been surprising to her, his member reaching deeper than most of the men she slept with before.

She groaned as he began to slowly thrust into her, his manhood reaching her top each time as the friction sent jolts of pleasure up her body.

"Oh yes…!" She moaned, her fingers digging into his back.

His hand went up to her breast, pinching her nipple as he moved a little harder.

She groaned loudly, her legs wrapping around his waist as she lifted her hips to meet his.

He focused on the sensations spreading through him, his deep moans muffled by her neck as his member rubbed against her walls. She didn't smell like her, or feel like her, or sound like her. Imagining Everil was becoming more and more difficult, and instead he could only think of the sad smile she gave him before he left the tent. He wanted to finish it, to be done with it so he could go back to her.

He pulled back panting for breath as he continued to thrust into the witch, his eyes gazing down at Morrigan's lustful, amber ones. She was beautiful. Any other man would have been enjoying her body, but he just couldn't.

"Turn over," He uttered, unexpectedly pulling out of her.

"What?" She frowned moodily.

"On all fours…" He added, leaning back onto his knees.

With an irritated look, Morrigan did as she was told, rolling over onto her hands and knees with her rump facing towards him. She felt his strong hands take hold of her hips and then a loud moan escaped her when he suddenly thrust into her again, the different position letting his manhood stroke different spots within her.

Their groans echoed within the cave as his hips hit hers, his hard member ramming against her top repeatedly as intense sensations shook her core.

But although it felt good to him, it didn't feel like it was enough. He imagined Everil's naked body as he made love to her, touching every inch of her beautiful curves. He thought of her bouncing breasts and the hunger in her eyes as she gazed into his. Of the sound of her lustful voice calling his name as he pleased her. The memories caused him to thrust faster, moaning as he closed his eyes tightly.

"Ah… yes! Harder!" Morrigan pleaded as she reached down with one hand between her legs, stroking her g-spot with her fingers as the pleasure intensified.

He felt her insides constrict around him, and his fingers dug into her skin, pleasure building within him as he lunged roughly into her. His thrusts rocked her body forward, making her let out a cry each time as her hand closed into a fist around the furs beneath her. She stroked herself faster, her body tensing as she etched closer to her climax.

After several thrusts they both came, and she felt his throbbing member fill her with his seed as their loud groans pierced the silence of the night. As soon as she felt it she chanted in a foreign tongue, her body briefly glowing faintly as she summoned her spell. Then it was done.

Moments after it was over, Alistair stood by the fire, tiredly tying his breeches back in place while numbly gazing down at the ground.

Morrigan lazily rolled onto her side, her eyes landing on his broad back and noticing the slump on his shoulders. She propped her head on her hand, completely unfazed by her state of undress as she watched him work his clothes back on.

"I must say… You are a much better lover than I expected," She uttered quietly, a pleased smile on her lips.

"Just make sure you keep your word after this is over," He retorted as he sent her a weak glare, walking up to his tunic and bending over to pick it up before sliding it over his head.

"'Tis you who should..." She said coolly. "You may have fathered the child, but 'tis mine and mine alone. Do not forget."

He threw on his cloak and covered his head, his voice barely a whisper. "I won't..."

She watched him walk out of the cave, her amber eyes sharp as she sat up to place her hand over her womb. She obtained what she wanted. All that was left now was to defeat the dragon. A task she knew would be difficult for them all.

xxxxxxx

Alistair made his way through the woods with heavy steps, shaking his head as troubled thoughts filled his mind. It was hard to believe he had just made the same mistake his father did when he was conceived, having cast him out into the world with a mark that followed him everywhere he went. Everyone around the child would reject it or look down on it, and there would be nothing Morrigan would be able to say to make it any easier.

But what felt worse was that although she told Everil it would be born healthy, Maker knew what effects carrying the soul of an old god would have upon a child later in its life.

He looked up past the woods, the glow of the campfires faintly lighting the clearing as it came into view. He slipped through the back of their camp, avoiding the soldiers once more as he glanced their way. It was relatively quiet with most of the army asleep, yet some remained awake, sharing conversations by the fire.

He soon reached his tent and he found himself hesitating before his door, finding it difficult to face her again after what happened moments before. Would she look at him differently despite her promise? Would it ever be the same between them in bed?

Taking in a breath, he gathered is courage and stepped inside.

When he entered, his eyes fell upon her as she slept on his bed. She lay curled into a ball and hugging a pillow as her hound lay at the foot of the bed, faithfully guarding her as she slept.

The sight of her made his eyes soften as he stepped closer, quietly walking up to the bed as he slid off his cloak and tossed it on the nearby chair. He petted the hound's head as he walked by to the empty side of the bed, murmuring a thank you while receiving a soft whine in response.

He didn't even care that he had his boots on when he slipped in with her, yearning to hold her body like never before. He moved closer to her, her back to his chest as she faced away from him. He propped himself up on one arm to look down at her sleeping features, and his heart wrenched painfully at what he found.

Tear streaks covered her flushed cheeks, while the corner of the pillow remained wet from her weeping.

With a guilt ridden expression, he reached down to gently run his fingers along her cheek, the soft touch stirring her awake.

"Alistair…?" She murmured groggily. And then she slowly turned her body, just enough to see his face above hers, allowing him to see the red in her eyes.

"Hey…" He greeted weakly, a corner of his lip slightly going up.

A tear slid down her face and she suddenly rolled over to face him, throwing her arm around him. With a pained expression he embraced her, only to feel her body shake with each sob that escaped her.

"Forgive me…" He murmured guiltily into her hair as he held her tightly, her sobs muffled by his chest. "Please forgive me…"

She didn't reply, instead whimpering as she cried, her tears seeping into his tunic as her hands closed into fists around it. He had touched and laid with another, and despite having been the one to ask him to do so, she still felt completely miserable. She had wept waiting for him, struggling to keep out the self-induced images of the two having sex that flickered through her mind. And she had found herself hating Morrigan for it all, for having tricked them in the beginning and for putting her hands on the one man she ever loved so deeply.

"It's not your fault… I made you do it," She breathed, and he had to strain to hear her. "But I wish I hadn't… I wish this didn't have to happen."

"I know…" He lightly stroked her back, nuzzling her head.

She pulled back enough to gaze up at him through tearful eyes. "I wanted to be the only one to feel your touch… the only one to please you."

"Everil…" He leaned down to softly kiss her lips. "It meant nothing… I felt nothing. I'm still yours and yours alone, my love."

With a shaky breath she pressed her cheek to his chest once more, his words bringing her heart some comfort. Eventually her tears subsided as exhaustion took over once more, and she slept, holding onto him as if letting go would cause him to leave her side. His arms remained around her, his fingers lovingly stroking her hair until sleep also claimed him.

xxxxxxx

Thunder crackled above them as thick, black clouds swirled in the sky, swallowing up the light of day and shrouding the landscape in darkness. In the distance, Denerim's walls were visible, towering over what lay below as a great number of darkspawn swarmed the gates. It was an omen of what they were about to face, and to some, the beginning of the end.

The soldiers stood anxiously in formation, holding their weapons tightly in their hands. A horse galloped from the back to the front of the formation, as the king rode to stand before them. His golden armor glimmered on what little sunlight filtered through the clouds as he regarded them with a somber look upon his youthful features, taking in their anxious expressions.

"Men! Before you stands the might of the darkspawn horde!" He began, his voice loud enough for all to hear. "They are relentless and their numbers are great! But although the odds seem to stand against us, we have hope to win this war! Hope given to us by the brave woman who not only united our people and our allies into a single force, but who has risked it all to save Ferelden, her home." Alistair gestured towards her as she rode her horse from the side, approaching him with a solemn look before gazing upon their army.

"Her name is Everil Cousland, and from this moment forward, she is not only the Grey Warden we are to follow into battle, but also your future queen. Believe in her as I do, and follow her command without question," He said with a firm tone, then he turned his horse, drawing his sword as they faced Denerim. And dread clawed at his chest, along with the nerves of leading an army for the first time.

He glanced towards Everil, who gave him a loving smile and a firm nod, one he returned with renewed confidence.

"Now let's show the darkspawn we're a force to be reckoned with! To avenge the deaths of my brother Cailan, and to honor the sacrifice of the Grey Wardens who died beside him!"

The soldiers raised their weapons, crying out in unison.

"Let's fight for your homes! For your families!" He then pointed his sword forth. "For Ferelden!"

They kicked their horses into a sprint, the soldiers behind them letting out loud war cries that matched the rumbling of the thunder above as they all charged, running with weapons raised.

Riding her horse at full speed, Everil looked up as they approached Denerim's towering walls, seeing several genlocks aiming arrows down at them. She drew her bow and aimed from her galloping steed, quickly firing several arrows that hit their mark, causing the creatures to pummel down before they reached the gates.

They entered the city as darkspawn poured out from every corner towards them, their weapons at the ready.

She halted her horse and fired another stream of arrows, taking out more enemies while Alistair went past her, slicing the heads off the hurlocks trying to attack him.

"We have to take back this area!" She shouted. "Kill any darkspawn you see then block the gates ahead!"

The soldiers did as they were told, and one after the other they engaged the enemy, the two forces clashing against each other with massive force.

Everil hopped off her horse, drawing her daggers and slashing at an incoming genlock, quickly dispatching it as its blood sprayed the dirt. She then whirled around and struck down another, slicing its throat open as it screeched.

A roar broke through the sound of battle as three ogres rampaged towards them, stomping through several soldiers in their wake. One of them swiped up one of the men, biting off his head as others backed away in fear.

Everil clicked her tongue and ran towards the closest one. "Sten, Oghren!"

"Right behind you, Warden!" Oghren called as they followed her.

"Take the legs!" She shouted.

Sten swung his massive sword, cutting into the side of its knee, while Oghren struck at the other knee. The ogre roared in pain as both warriors then slashed its legs again, forcing the monster onto its knees. Everil then jumped, stabbing at its gut before climbing her way up to its chest, burying her dagger into its heart. It then fell with her on top and she rolled off onto her feet, moving on to a hurlock that charged at her.

Another ogre fell, taken down by several soldiers while the third was defeated by Zevran, who climbed up its back to stab its neck.

Alistair stabbed through a genlock then drew his sword out of its body, whirling around and slashing through several more.

Then a loud growl shook the ground as a dark shadow flew over them, shrouding the area in darkness as it went. Everil struck down another creature, then looked up to see the dragon as it flapped its massive black wings above, heading towards the center of the city, spitting fire in its wake.

"There it is…" She breathed as she narrowed her eyes, hearing the silent voices in her head. The soldiers around her gazed up in fear, watching the monster fly past the wall ahead.

After taking the first area, some individual groups scattered to secure the gates, while the rest of the army stood fast awaiting further instructions.

"We lost a few men, but not as many as we anticipated," The Knight Lieutenant told Alistair and Everil as the two inquired on a brief status.

"And the gates?" Alistair asked as he folded his arms.

"It's done. But I'm afraid they won't hold for long, your Highness. We must move in and take back the rest of the city soon."

He glanced towards Everil. "Then we have to hurry…"

The knight then turned to her. "I shall call upon the detachments now, Lady Everil."

She nodded. "Do it. Have them gather by the north gate. We will meet them there."

With that he bowed with both arms to his chest and then hurried away to fulfill his tasks.

"Good work there, pretty boy. You almost look like you know what you're doing!" Oghren teased as their party approached them, while Everil and Morrigan avoided each other's gaze.

"Thanks! That's what I'm going for, actually," Alistair replied with a sarcastic smile.

Oghren smirked. "So what now? Should we go kick some dragon ass?"

"That's the plan. But there's something I want to say before we go." Everil took a step towards them, a somber look upon her features. "Thank you all for helping us through all this. Fighting alongside you has been an honor."

Leliana smiled sweetly at her. "The honor is ours, Evy. You will always be a valued friend to me."

"It has been a pleasure, all of you. I have learned and experience much beside you. I will not forget any of you," Wynne said with a curt bow of her head.

"You did well, Kadan. You far exceeded my expectations," Sten said, arms folded as he gazed down at her.

"I admit it was quite the exciting journey, Warden. Just make sure not to get eaten. Fate would dictate that dragon would fly over me and poop it upon my person," Shale said with a small chuckle.

"Serving you has been a privilege, my lady. I will never forget the kindness you've shown me," Zevran said, bowing with a hand to his chest.

Oghren nodded his head. "It's been a damn good ride, Warden. Thanks to you I can be a proud warrior again! Now let's put an end to that sodded overgrown lizard!"

Magnus then barked loudly, wagging his tail.

"All right… Let's go hunt a dragon!" Everil said with a smile, motioning towards the north gate. The party then began to walk towards the gates as the soldiers gathered around to see them off.

She made to follow when Alistair's hand took hers.

"Wait…" He uttered, stopping her in her tracks.

Everil turned to gaze up at him. "Yes?"

Alistair suddenly pulled her to him and pressed his lips to hers in a passionate kiss, surprising her as her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. The soldiers around them stared, some with wide eyes, others with snickers as their party did the same.

He pulled back from their kiss then, leaving her dazed as he gently stroked her cheek with his gloved hand.

"Let's make sure we both make it back alive…" He spoke softly, a corner of his lips going up.

"Of course…" She uttered with a tender smile.

They all made their way to the gates, walking through the soldiers, who thrust their fists into the air to cheer them on.

"Defeat those bastards!" Some called.

"Kill them all!" Others yelled.

Everil walked with her head held high, determined eyes trained ahead. They were close to ending it all. And they could not fail.

xxxxxxx

They advanced through another set of double gates, crossing a bridge deeper into the city and towards the tower. But although the larger numbers were focused on the army, resistance was still present.

"Out of the way!" Riordan cried out and stabbed through a hurlock. He then kicked its gut to pull his dagger out of it.

Everil locked blades with another creature, gritting her teeth as it shoved against her. She side-stepped, making him lose balance before driving her weapon into its stomach.

Another roar shook the ground as the dragon descended from above. Everil's eyes widened upon realizing what it was doing. It drew in a deep breath, its throat glowing purple.

"Look out!" She shouted and ran out of its way as the beast shot a stream of fire that burned anything in its wake. It left a path of death, both darkspawn and friendlies burned, along with the buildings that stood nearby.

She pushed herself up off the ground, coughing as the smell of sulfur reached her nose. "Bastard!"

Another roar was heard and she looked up once more, this time surprised at who was currently upon the dragon's back.

Having jumped from one of the buildings, Riordan now rode the dragon, one of his daggers buried into its back. He let out a cry as he stabbed it with his other blade, causing the beast to screech as it bled.

"Die!" Riordan yelled as he pulled out his weapon, then stabbed it again, slowly making his way up to its neck as he struggled to keep himself from falling off its back. The dragon growled, flying higher as it approached Fort Drakon. It then narrowed its eyes when it neared one of the tower's walls, turning sideways as it glided by the structure.

"Riordan!" Everil cried out, but she could only watch in horror.

He hit the wall, his dagger dislodging from the dragon's back. He helplessly waved his arms, trying to stab the creature as he fell, piercing one of its wings instead. The blade slid easily through the thin skin of its wing, slicing it like paper as the Grey Warden continued to fall. Then there was nothing to hold him up. He pummeled to the ground, his eyes wide as he helplessly watched the dragon crash into the tower as the top rapidly grew more distant.

Everil looked away just as his body hit the ground with a sickening thud, her hands closing into fists.

"No…" Alistair breathed and ran towards the senior Warden's still form, a saddened expression befalling him upon seeing his lifeless eyes. His fellow Warden's goal had been to die killing the dragon, not to be defeated in such a way.

"It's climbing up to the top!" Leliana said and pointed up, their party watching as it used its claws to anchor onto the walls of the tower.

"It cannot fly anymore… We can climb up after it and finish it off," Everil said to them, her sharp eyes moving down to her party. "Come. Riordan sacrificed himself to give us this chance. Let's make it count."

They nodded to her and then she turned to the soldiers standing by. "You will all follow us, but keep your distance. Only engage the enemy when necessary. Chances are the dragon will call upon more darkspawn when it finds itself pinned down, we will need your help when that happens."

"Yes, my lady!" They hit their arm to their chest.

"Let's finish this!" Everil said, sheathing her blade before turning to charge towards the tower, followed by her party and their allies behind them.

They stormed the tower, killing the first wave of darkspawn awaiting them inside and making their way up. A second wave met them in the next level, the corridors filled with the creatures. It was like a hive, where the workers relentlessly protected their queen, throwing their lives away as they were butchered by the enemy.

Sten roared and swung his sword, killing several of them at once. Meanwhile Oghren brought his axe around, easily decapitating three genlocks. Leliana and Zevran were back to back with each other, each one killing more of the monsters.

As they made their way to the next level, more of them were pouring down the steps towards them, growling at them as they held their weapons up above their heads.

Everil took a step back, her arm extending to block her party, who were behind her a few steps down. "Morrigan!"

The witch's wide eyes went up to her.

"Burn them to dust!"

She smirked. "With pleasure."

Morrigan stepped up to stand beside her, chanting a spell before unleashing a wave of flames that climbed the wide arch of the stairs. The cries pierced their ears as the monsters burned alive, the smell of burnt flesh permeating the air. In minutes it was over, and Morrigan stood panting slightly as a bead of sweat slid down her brow.

"Thanks. Good work," Everil said, a corner of her lips going up as she lightly patted the mage's shoulder.

Morrigan simply looked at her with a subtle frown, watching her as she continued climbing the steps, unfazed by the burning ashes scattering around her.

They made it the rest of the way to the top and to the last chamber that led to where the dragon lay. Its roars could be heard through the walls and the floor shook as it writhed in anger.

Everil took a step, pausing at the center of the hall. "All right this is it…" She uttered, then turned to the others. "Morrigan… may I talk to you for a moment?"

The witch nodded slowly, while Alistair gave Everil a concerned look.

The two women stepped to the side, away from earshot as the roars of the dragon also helped muffle their voices.

"I do not wish to talk about what happened," Morrigan quickly said, her voice colder than she had intended.

"I know… I don't either," Everil gave her a sad smile. "But I wish to say something before we go out there… I... I wanted to thank you. For… doing this."

"What?" Her eyes widened.

"I know you said the only reason for you to be here… is to get what you wanted. Yet there were times during this journey when I truly felt you cared about me," Everil uttered, casting her eyes to the floor. "I wanted to tell you that regardless of what we are now, and despite what happened, I bear you no ill feelings."

Morrigan's grip on her staff tightened, her brow furrowing. "I…"

The mage suddenly felt her arms wrap around her and she took in a breath, shock in her eyes. And despite the intrusion, she didn't pull away, her arm awkwardly wrapping around her waist.

"I'm going to be the one to kill the dragon," Everil whispered into her ear. "If the spell does not work and I die... Please know I am still grateful to have been your friend."

To Morrigan's surprise, her heart twisted at her words. And she found herself hoping the ritual had gone as planned for someone other than herself. "Everil…" She uttered with a worried frown. "It… it will work."

Everil pulled back, giving her a smile that made her heart ache once more. "We both know there is no such thing as absolute certainty."

With that she watched mutely as the Warden turned on her heel and head for the door, walking with her back turned to them as they followed her. As they neared the door she spoke, her tone as sharp as steel. "Focus your energy on weakening the bastard. And no matter what the outcome, remember that today we all fought valiantly for something bigger than ourselves!"

The moment she stepped out through the double doors the dragon zeroed in on her, its pupils shrinking as they met her gaze.

Without hesitation, she broke into a run, charging towards it with a cry as she readied her weapons. The others followed her with the exception of Morrigan and Wynne, who stood by preparing a spell.

The dragon opened its maws to try to bite her, but Everil slid sideways, dodging its teeth and stabbing her blades onto its head. It cried out and lifted it, trying to shake her off. She detached herself from it and back flipped, landing on her feet before dodging its claws.

Alistair slashed at its arm, cutting through its thick skin while Sten and Oghren focused on its side.

It then wailed, forcing them to cover their ears before it jumped back and onto a platform behind it. Darkspawn poured from adjacent doors, letting out cries of their own as they charged towards the group. Everil slashed at a genlock, then followed through, stabbing another, then another.

Leliana huffed as she rolled for the side, dodging an axe that came down to the ground before swiftly lunging forward, running the creature through with her dagger. She then pulled out her bow, firing several arrows at the upcoming wave of enemies.

"Warriors charge!" Everil shouted above the dragon's cry, pointing her dagger at it.

Dwarves, elves and humans burst through the door, clashing with the darkspawn as the sound of metal against metal filled their ears.

The archdemon watched as its underlings were slain one by one and it growled angrily as its claws dug onto the floor.

Everil stepped back. "Archers!"

Several elves and humans lined up behind her, each preparing an arrow.

"Fire!" She commanded and pointed her blade towards the dragon once more.

The wave of arrows flew over her and onto its neck and chest, making it roar angrily before it drew in a breath, preparing its flames.

"Mages! Cast a wall of ice! Block its dragon breath!" She shouted.

All at once, the mages brought up a wall before the dragon's intended targets, shielding them from its flames.

Frustrated, the archdemon leapt from its platform down towards them, the shock of its massive weight hitting the ground and sending them flying back.

"Now focus your attacks on the beast!" Everil shouted as she quickly pushed herself up to dash towards it.

The dragon swooped at them with its tail, sending several soldiers over the edge of the tower and to their deaths. Then it grabbed onto two more with its maws, biting them in half.

"Keep fighting!" Everil ordered, stabbing its side.

In moments the dragon's blood covered the floor, dripping from its wounds each time it moved. But it still struggled, killing several more in the process. It roared once more, and having had enough, it whirled around, swinging its massive tail and landing a hit on them. The hut sent them all tumbling backwards, forcing them away from it.

In that instant the sky lit up with lightning and a loud rumble resonated through the skies. Then rain came pouring down upon them, as if the skies themselves were crying over the dead.

Feeling the drops on her face, Everil winced and weakly pushed her upper body up on unsteady arms, her vision blurred as she gazed ahead towards the beast. It roared once more, summoning more minions as it struggled to stand on its injured legs. The remaining soldiers stood between them and the enemy, locking blades with the darkspawn. Some were ran through by their jagged blades, dropping dead as their blood flowed on the wet floor.

Her eyes moved towards Sten, Oghren, Zevran and Leliana as they slowly sat up. And beside her Alistair steered, blood sliding down his eye from a cut on his forehead. Morrigan and Wynne were casting spells, trying to help the soldiers who were currently attempting to keep the darkspawn from reaching their king.

She then returned her eyes to the dragon as it met her gaze, seemingly tired.

" _Finish it..."_

Everil heard its voice in her head, making her eyes grow wide. She looked to the side, and seeing her weapons gone from her reach, she went for Alistair's sword.

" _Release me from this nightmare."_

With effort, she stood and took a step, grunting as her hand went up to her injured side.

" _End my suffering, Grey Warden!"_

Alistair's head shot up, the voice in his head snapping him into consciousness in time to see her charge, his sword at the ready as she released a battle cry. His eyes then went to the dragon, which waited for her with a sinister snarl.

"Everil…!" He forced himself to his feet and took a step, only to fall on his knee as he desperately reached out to her. "No!"

Morrigan quickly summoned a stream of flames, burning all the creatures in the Warden's path. Everil kept her sharp blue eyes focused on her target, running through the swirling ashes around her as they made way for her.

The dragon then stood in its hind legs, readying another wave of flames. But she had already used the shoulder of a hurlock to boost herself up, jumping as high as she could and leading with the sword as she let out another war cry.

The blade buried itself deep into its chest, piercing its heart as the dragon spit its fire up towards the sky. Then suddenly it glowed in a white light, its brightness enveloping her as its claws wrapped around her body. She bit back the pain as she felt several ribs break under its viselike grip, the light blinding her as she held onto her blade.

The others covered their eyes as the top of the tower lit up like a beacon, the light shooting up into the sky and through the dark clouds. The darkspawn cowered under the light, backing away slowly as their master perished before their eyes.

Then they all began to run away, retreating from the tower, while those engaging the armies below froze and looked up. The light frightened them, causing them to run past the bewildered soldiers who watched them flee.

Alistair and the others left on the tower watched stunned as the light raged on, a powerful wind swirling around them.

Morrigan placed her hand over her womb as she stared, her chest growing uncomfortably tight with worry for the woman still attached to the dying beast.

Then as soon as the light came, it was gone.

Alistair slowly rose with a grunt. His alarm eyes fell upon the dead dragon and the woman lying beside it, her back facing him. He waited expectantly for her to stir. But she remained motionless. He took a step, the rain drumming down on him and further weighing his shoulders as he walked, his heart heavy in his chest.

The rest of the party looked on from afar, watching worriedly as he approached Everil's still form.

He fell on his knees, his hands reaching down to ever so gently turn her over onto her back.

"Everil… Wake up…" He breathed, gently cradling her into his arm as her head lolled to the side, the rain drops carelessly falling and sliding down her face.

But despite his call, her eyes wouldn't open.

His heart dropped like led and tears slid down his cheek as he reached up with shaking fingers, brushing her damp hair from her pale cheeks. "No… please no..." He murmured as he slowly wrapped his arms around her. He held her tightly as he pressed his cheek to her forehead, closing his eyes tightly as more tears rolled out. "No..."

"Alistair…?"

His eyes snapped open and he drew back to look down at her, her eyes tiredly gazing up into his as another tear slid down his face.

"Hey…" She whispered weakly, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek. "It worked…"

"Thank the Maker!" Deep relief filled his heart and he pulled her to him once more, embracing her as if his life depended on it.

She smiled despite the pain, her arm weakly wrapping around him as she let him hold her.

Standing by the door, Morrigan watched as the others approached the two, relieved looks on their faces. She felt herself smile lightly and then turned away, disappearing into the tower to never be seen again.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter XXIV

The next morning the rain cleared, giving way to the sun's rays as they bathed the battle-scarred city below. The healers helped carry injured soldiers and civilians to the royal palace, where they were to be treated and fed. Meanwhile others helped pick up the dead from the bloody streets, laying them down on a designated spot and wrapping them in sheets in preparation to their funeral.

It was a grim sight despite their victory.

Alistair stood beside Eamon in the torn city square, his arms crossed over his chest as he listened to one of the soldiers give a status report of the cleanup efforts.

He sighed, wishing he hadn't been forced to leave her side. He had carried her injured form down from the top of the tower, and exhaustion had taken her consciousness on the way. But although he wanted nothing but be with her, he needed to survey the damage, which simply showed that rebuilding Denerim would be nothing in comparison to the rest of Ferelden. The recovery of farmlands, lost livestock and homesteads would likely take years for many of the lords throughout the land, and he questioned it would even be possible to completely heal the scars within his lifetime. At least he could find comfort in knowing that after a year of struggle after struggle, they had managed to save what was left, no matter how little.

 _At least she survived… take the victories as they come._ He let out a soft breath.

"Worried about her?" Eamon muttered beside him, giving him a knowing look after the soldier left them to tend to his duties.

Alistair let a corner of his lips go up. "Is it that obvious?"

Eamon patted his shoulder. "She's fine, son. Your healer is with her, no?"

He nodded. "Wynne said her injuries were healing well, but she requires rest. She never did have time to completely recover after the Landsmeet."

"And yet she still defeated an archdemon… quite impressive," Eamon said with a tilt of his chin. The woman's strength and resilience was above anything he hadn't seen since his own sister, late Queen Rowan.

"Yes..." Alistair uttered and began to walk down the road while the arl followed, eyeing the destruction around them. "I still can't believe it's over…"

Eamon shook his head. "It's not truly, your Highness. The Blight may have ended, but it is all just beginning for you. There is much work ahead."

"Ah… I guess you're right." He said, solemnly looking at the broken buildings around them. Homes that once belonged to the people.

A commotion nearby made them turn their attention towards several soldiers, who were holding back a cloaked man as he struggled against their hold.

"Unhand me!" The stranger snapped angrily. "I must speak with the king!"

"We don't believe your story, fiend!" One of the soldiers drew his sword, pointing it at his chest.

"I swear to you I'm him!"

"What's going on here?" Alistair asked sternly as he and Eamon walked up to them, interrupting the scuffle.

"Stand back, sire. He has a sword," The guard said, his eyes still upon the newcomer.

The cloaked figure met Alistair's gaze, standing tall despite his situation. "I mean you no harm, your Majesty. I only came to see my sister."

Alistair raised a brow. "Your sister?"

"He claims to be late Bryce Cousland's eldest son, your Highness," The soldier told him, sending a suspicious scowl towards the hooded figure whose arms were held behind his back by two others.

Alistair stepped closer, causing the man to stiffen under his gaze. The king then reached for the man's hood, uncovering his head to see his face.

"Maker's breath…" Alistair breathed with surprise and then turned to the guards. "Release him. He speaks the truth."

"Y-yes, your Majesty." The soldier lowered his weapon while the others did as they were told, releasing him from their hold.

"Our apologies, my lord," The guard uttered with a fist to his chest.

Fergus nodded. "It's quite all right."

"I can't believe you survived… we thought you died in Ostagar," Alistair told Fergus with a relieved smile.

Fergus frowned in puzzlement at him. "Have we… met before, your Highness?" He asked hesitantly. He found out weeks ago that a new king now ruled the country, but had never seen his face before. Instead he was able to recognize the armor from afar as the same one King Cailan once wore.

"No, we haven't," Alistair replied as he placed a hand on his shoulder. "But that's not important at the moment. Come with me. Everil will want to know you're still alive." He then turned to Eamon. "I'll be back. Can you please oversee the market?"

"Of course, sire," Eamon responded with a bow of his head.

"So she really is here..." Fergus uttered with relief as he began to follow the king towards the palace.

"Yes. She's recovering after the battle," Alistair told him from over his shoulder. "Hopefully she has awakened by now."

xxxxxxx

Everil set the bowl on her lap, gazing down at the blue liquid still steaming within as she sat upon the bed. She was leaning against the headboard on a pillow Wynne kindly placed behind her back, her torso still aching from the injuries the dragon caused. It was hard to tell if it was due to the Blight ending or her own exhaustion, but for the first time in what felt like ages, she was able to sleep without the nightmares. Defeating the Blight lifted a massive weight from her shoulders, setting her free from the constant dread of death and the fear of losing the country to the darkspawn.

Still, there was much to be done and she itched to go outside. If only a certain old mage would let her leave the bed.

Wynne looked her way with critical eyes, shaking her head. "All of it, child," She scolded gently as she mashed some herbs over the tray.

"But it tastes awful…" Everil protested pitifully. "And I'm well enough. I don't understand why you're not letting me out of here yet."

"I may have mended your ribs, but your bones are still bruised and your body weak. The elfroot tea will help you," Wynne said and sent her a warm smile. "Trust me on this."

She sighed. "Very well."

A knock on the door made them both turn towards it before it cracked open. Alistair's head poked in, relieved upon seeing her awake and sitting up. "Hey…"

"Hi," She greeted quietly, a small smile on her lips as she tilted her head. "How were things outside? Were they as bad as they looked yesterday?"

"More or less…" He responded solemly as he stepped in, walking up to her and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "But we can talk about that later. How are you feeling?"

"I'm all right... Just a little tired."

He gently took her hand between both of his, his eyes softening. "You scared me back there. I thought I lost you…"

"I'm sorry I worried you…" She uttered as she watched him bring her hand up to kiss her fingers.

"You're forgiven. Just don't do it again," He said with a loving smile.

She released a weak chuckle. "I shall do my best."

"Good... Well I'm glad you're up now. There's someone who wants to see you," He said as he stood, turning to the door. "You may come in now."

Everil looked curiously to the door as it slowly opened. Her eyes gradually widened in surprise as a man stepped in, recognizing his features despite his scruffed appearance.

"Fergus!" She gasped.

"Little sister…" Feegus uttered as he made his way towards the bed, taking in the sight of her. She still looked as beautiful as before, yet slightly more mature, something he expected when considering how much she went through. A small smile spread on his lips. "It has been a while..."

"I can't believe you're alive!" Everil said as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her as tears stung her eyes. "Maker, I thought I lost you too!"

His hold on her tightened. "I'm so glad you're all right. I've been searching everywhere for you."

Alistair folded his arms as he and Wynne watched the two, a smile on their faces.

"How did you find me?" She asked as her brother pulled back from their embrace, her hands going up to wipe tears from her eyes.

"I heard the youngest Cousland would be leading the battle against the Blight in Denerim. I wasn't far from here… so I came to help. Though it looks like you already took care of things." He chuckled, gently patting her shoulder. "I figured the king could tell me where you were, considering you led his armies."

Everil cast quizzical eyes upon him. "Is that all you heard? Of the king and I?"

Fergus frowned. "Is there something else I should know?"

"Well… yes…" Everil quietly said and gestured towards Alistair. "Fergus, this is Alistair. He's my betrothed."

Her brother's brows shot up. "He's your what?"

"Her betrothed," Alistair repeated with a warm smile as he extended his hand for a handshake. "A pleasure to meet you at last."

"Uh yes… the pleasure is mine," Fergus said numbly, shaking his hand.

"I imagine the Howes are still occupying your lands, even with Rendon Howe dead. You'll have them back as soon as we're done picking up the mess in Denerim," Alistair told him with a firm look.

Fergus bowed his head. "Thank you, your Highness."

"Well now that we've been acquainted, Wynne and I should probably leave you two to catch up," Alistair said, turning to Wynne.

"Yes, of course," Wynne replied, picking up her tray. "I have to check on the others, as well."

"Rest as much as you need," Alistair uttered as he approached Everil, taking her hand to kiss it one more time. "I'll come see you later"

"All right…" She then watched him step away as he headed towards the door, followed closely by Wynne before they both stepped out, leaving the siblings alone.

"He seems to be a good man…" Fergus said while taking a seat on the chair by the bed.

She reached up to tug a strand of hair behind her ear. "He is. I couldn't have made it this far without him."

"I wasn't aware Cailan had a brother."

"It's a long story… One he will tell you about one day."

"So he's a Grey Warden, like you."

"Yes he is," Everil said quietly, wondering if he was trying to avoid talking about the loss of their family.

"There were wanted posters of you everywhere, claiming you and the rest of the Wardens killed the king. I obviously knew they were lies, but that's how I found that Duncan brought you with him to Ostagar." He smiled sadly, placing his hand upon hers. "And after hearing about what happened to our family… I… I was glad that by doing so he at least saved you."

Sadness dawned upon her eyes. "I'm sorry, Fergus…'"

"I wish I could've been there when you killed Howe… I would've liked to watch the bastard die," He muttered, a mixture of anger and grief upon his worn features.

She could tell he traveled for a long time, possibly searching for her from the beginning. It was hard to imagine what he went through alone, without anyone to help him deal with their loss.

"I wish you could've been there too, brother," She murmured softly, gently squeezing his hand. There was no doubt that moving on with their lives would be a difficult task, but at the very least they had each other again. She was more than relieved to see he yet lived. Now they could focus on the future together.

xxxxxxx

Everil stared at herself in the mirror, the image of a woman wearing a lavish wedding dress staring back at her. Behind her Leliana fixed her dark locks into an elaborate bun, attaching pearls to the silky strands at odd intervals. Despite the servants' insistence at helping her, the rogue took over the task, having claimed that only she was qualified for the job.

After the suffering Ferelden endured, the people needed something to lift their spirits, so Eamon arranged for their wedding to take place along with the coronation. It had been but a couple of months since the end of **t** he Blight, and after seeing the state of affairs across the land, she found she needed something to celebrate as much as everyone else. But although she was happy to marry the man she loved, she was about to take the reins of an entire country, something not even she was entirely confident about.

She let out a breath as a subtle wave of nausea washed over her.

"Nervous?" Leliana asked quietly, smiling at her through their reflection in the mirror.

"Yes…" She smiled back.

Leliana laughed lightly. "You will be just fine. I am glad things worked out between the two of you."

"So am I… though I admit I didn't expect we would end up ruling Ferelden. Which is what has me the most nervous," Everil admitted to her, gazing down at the flowers in her hands.

"You got us through the Blight in one piece. I'm certain you can handle the crown and anything else thrown your way."

Everil turned then and wrapped her arms around her, giving her a tight hug. "Thank you, Leliana."

She hugged her back just as tightly. "You are welcome."

Leliana then pulled back, placing her hands on her shoulders as her eyes filled with tears. "You look gorgeous."

Everil chuckled. "Aw... don't cry."

"I-it's not only about the wedding…" Her eyes shifted to the floor. "I'll be leaving Ferelden for some time… shortly after."

Everil frowned. "Where will you be going?"

"Orlais… I have some unfinished business there."

"I see…"

"But don't worry…. I will be back to visit sometime. I could never forget such a dear friend," Leliana said with a small smile before reaching up to fix a loose strand of hair. "By the way… I haven't seen Morrigan since the battle... Did something happen to her?"

Everil's shoulders stiffened at the mention of the witch, and she averted her eyes, turning towards the mirror once more. "She left."

Leliana's brow furrowed. "Left? Without saying goodbye?"

Everil smiled sadly, her chest aching at the memory of what happened. "Morrigan was never one for sentimentalism."

The nun sighed. "I suppose that is true..."

xxxxxxx

The doors to the Chantry slowly opened as the nobles within turned to her, directing their full attention towards her. Their stares followed her as Fergus carefully led her down the carpeted isle, her steps even despite her racing heart. She held her head up as she walked, while those gathered in the chamber bowed to her as she passed.

Then a small smile spread on her lips when her eyes landed upon him, his regal appearance nearly taking her breath away.

Alistair stood expectantly at the end of the isle, wearing the ceremonial garments of a king, his mantle flowing elegantly over his shoulders and down his back. And he stared back at her with a smile of his own, his loving eyes going over her.

It was a relief to her that after the struggles they went through, and the times in which their relationship was strained, they still found a way to stay together. She was grateful for that, and would be grateful for the rest of her days.

When they reached the altar Fergus bowed to the king and passed her on to him. Alistair gave him a curt nod of his own, gently taking her hand in his.

They both then knelt before the Revered Mother, bowing their heads to her as she raised her hand up above them. Her chant then flowed to all in the room, her firm voice speaking that which were said to be the words of the Maker. And as she spoke she cast her blessing upon them, uniting them in a bond that could only be broken by death itself.

Then the old priestess turned to the first of two Chantry Sisters standing beside her, each holding intricately embroidered pillows over which the crowns sat. She first reached for the king's crown, carefully taking it in her old hands to then raise it above him.

"As the Maker is my witness, I hereby crown you King... She lowered the crown upon his head and then reached for the other crown, gently bringing it down upon her head. "…And Queen of Ferelden. To rule over these blessed lands with virtue and righteousness."

With a smile, the priestess then took a step back. "You may now rise and seal this oath with a kiss."

They stood and turned to face each other, her gaze meeting his as her heart fluttered in her chest, a happiness she never felt before overtaking her. He smiled tenderly down at her, taking her hand as he stepped closer. And then her eyes slid shut as he leaned down, pressing his lips to hers in a gentle kiss.

Those in the room cheered, clapping with glee as Alistair pulled away from their kiss to cast his gaze upon them. He then led her down the aisle, those around them bowing to them once more as they headed towards the doors and out to their carriage.

Denerim's damaged streets were brightened by the joy of the people gathered throughout the city. Some waved their hands excitedly, while others tossed flower petals over the carriage as their new monarchs travelled through, waving at them with gentle smiles on their faces. Seeing their hopeful looks as they passed by made Alistair remember just how much was on his shoulders. Yet when he looked to her, admiring the beautiful smile she sent her people, he began to find the weight that much easier to carry.

xxxxxxx

Just hours into their banquet and he could probably claim to have met every single noble in Ferelden. Only he could not yet remember half the names, something that simply added to his nerves. He sighed inwardly, his arms crossing over his chest as he feebly attempted to listed to every detail of his ongoing conversation with the old couple before him. Eamon of course stood beside him, obviously more accustomed to the formalities than he.

Everil had been separated from him, somehow taken away from his side by several ladies who were old acquaintances of her late mother's.

Past the old man's shoulder, he could see a few of their party members scattered throughout the room, each enjoying food and drinking wine passed around by the servants. Zevran leaned back against a wall, well dressed and flirting openly with some of the younger ladies. Oghren laughed loudly, wearing shining armor while talking with another dwarf who happened to attend.

Alistair then found himself searching the room for her, frowning quizzically upon not finding her.

"What say you, your Majesty?"

"Huh?" Alistair's head snapped in their direction, his brows shooting up. "About wha-Oomph!"

Eamon withdrew his elbow, chuckling to hide his irritation. "I must apologize. As you can imagine, the King has much in his mind due to the present condition of the country."

"It's understandable. I suppose there is not much we can do to improve the state of my trade until the southern lands have recovered," The lord said worriedly, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Now darling. We're celebrating the young king's wedding. This can wait," The man's wife scolded gently, then turn motherly eyes to him. "Our apologies, your Highness."

"Uhm no uh… It's fine," Alistair said, quickly attempting to regain his composure. "I uh… I understand you're losing coin right now, but we'll need your help a little longer… your lands being in the north help feed the refugees until they can move back and work the farmland again. After that happens, I'll arrange for Denerim to give your goods priority and temporarily halt your taxes to repay your generosity during these difficult times."

Eamon nodded proudly beside him.

"That is most generous." The lord bowed respectfully. "Thank you, your Majesty."

Quick footsteps made them turn their attention towards an approaching servant as she hurried towards Alistair in evident distress. The elf halted next to him, bowing awkwardly as she gaze up at him. "Your Majesty… uhm…"

His brow furrowed. "Yes?"

The elf gazed to those next to him, then bit her lip nervously. Seeing she was trying to be secretive, he leaned over, letting her whisper to him. "Go on."

The elf brought her hand up to her lips, whispering to him. "The Queen is not feeling well…"

He frowned, placing a hand on the elf's shoulder. "Where is she?"

"Uh I can lead you to her," She replied.

He nodded, then turned to Eamon and the two guests. "Excuse me for a moment. I'll be back soon. Arl Eamon, can you please tend to them?"

"Of course, your Highness," He said with a nod.

"Thank you," He told them as he and the elf made for the nearest door.

"I wonder what happened," the old lady said worriedly.

"It's most likely nothing, my lady. The king is new to his duties, is all," Eamon told them with a reassuring smile.

Alistair followed the maid, crossing the hallways in hurry. It seemed to be far enough from the ball room to keep away from traffic, possibly to avoid the eyes of everyone in the area. If their guests were to see her sick they would likely spread rumors and doubt she was healthy enough to be queen. It would be a ridiculous assumption, but he knew nobles loved formulating and exploiting weaknesses, if not for power, then simply for fun. An ill queen would be a weakness, regardless of whether or not she killed an archdemon and ended the Blight.

But she was fine just a moment ago. Was it the nerves? Was there something wrong with the food? Was it poison?

He scowled. There was a faint possibility someone who sympathized with Loghain may have poisoned the food. Now on the day of their wedding. The perfect day to take advantage of their distractions. Perhaps he should go back to the ballroom and warn everyone.

But what if it was truly nothing? Maybe only the stress from the day?

They soon reached a set of double doors and the maid quietly knocked. Footsteps approaching could be heard from within and then one of the doors opened, revealing Wynne. "There you are," She said calmly, gazing up at him.

"Is Everil in there?" He asked with a concerned look in his eyes. "The maid told me she wasn't feeling well."

"She's fine. Just queasy and in need of a little fresh air." She then took a step outside, closing the door and reaching into her pocket. "I gave her some tea to help ease her stomach. I will leave the recipe with the maids for when it happens again."

His frown deepened. "Why would it happen again? Is she ill?"

Wynne then gave him her trademark motherly smile, resting her hand on his arm. "Don't worry, boy. She's not sick. But it is not my place to tell you more. Go inside and talk to her. She wants to see you."

He smiled with relief at her words. "All right. Thank you, Wynne."

They then stepped aside for him, allowing him to enter the room and closing the door behind him. It was a sitting room, dimly lit by candles and the moonlight shining through the large balcony on one side.

He found her sitting on a chair by the balcony, a soft breeze picking up the curtains while also gently tousling the stray strands of hair framing her face. She brought down the teacup from her lips, drawing a deep breath before she smiled weakly at him, her cheeks flushed lightly.

He made his way towards her and took a knee before her, taking one of her hands in his. "Are you feeling well? I thought something bad happened…"

"I am. I'm sorry I worried you again…" She replied before turning a regretful look outside. "Ugh… and I'm so very sorry for what I did to that poor rose bush…"

He let out a brief chuckle. "It's fine... So what made you sick, my dear? Was it too crowded in there? I can kick everyone out if you need me to."

She laughed lightly. "You know you can't do that…"

He grinned playfully. "I'm the king. I can do whatever I want."

"It's… not that anyway. It's something else." She smiled lovingly at him, setting down her cup over the small table next to her. The pink tint on her cheeks then turned a shade darker as she spoke. "Uhm… Wynne found something in me… something you need to know about."

"What is it?" He uttered and his eyes hardened. "Was it poison? If it was, I swear I'll—"

"A child."

His brows shot up. "Huh…?"

Her smile broadened, her hand cupping his cheek as she gazed down into his eyes. "I'm with child, my love."

The words took a moment to sink as he remained rooted to the spot, staring at her in bafflement. Everil simply waited patiently for him, gently stroking his cheek with her thumb.

"We?" He breathed. "Ours?"

She slowly nodded. "Yes."

"Maker…" He murmured numbly, still unable to believe his ears. His hand slowly reached out to her stomach then, his fingers gingerly touching her belly. "I… I though we…"

"I've been a Grey Warden for much less time than you have... I think perhaps that helped." She quietly said, watching him rise to his feet with her hand still in his.

"Yes..." He uttered as he helped her stand, carefully drawing her into his arms. "But it doesn't matter how it happened... I'm just happy it did... More than happy..."

"So am I…" She pressed her cheek to his strong chest, drawing in his scent as he held her tightly to him.

He slowly pulled back to meet her gaze, gently caressing her jaw with his thumb. "I love you, Everil..."

She leaned into his touch, warmth spreading through her chest. "I love you too, Alistair."

He then leaned over to press his lips to hers in soft, feather like kisses.

Everil's heart soared as she wrapped her arms around his neck, returning his kisses with a blissful sigh. It was a journey full of hardships, pain, blood and death. But meeting him and fighting beside him through it all had made it all bearable. Being with him gave her strength during times of weakness and doubt, and he gave her happiness in times when she needed to smile, to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Indeed she was the Hero of Ferelden, a Grey Warden, and now Queen, but in the end she was content with simply being alive with him.


End file.
